


on the shoulders of giants

by hyruling, playedwright, sabisun



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Jurassic Park Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst, Based on Jurassic Park (1993), Dinosaurs, Exes to Lovers, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, POV Alternating, Reunions, Romance, descriptions of injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyruling/pseuds/hyruling, https://archiveofourown.org/users/playedwright/pseuds/playedwright, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabisun/pseuds/sabisun
Summary: Just over a hundred miles west of the farthest point of Costa Rica, on a small cay known as Isla Nublar, a grim-faced crew gathers as a crate is lowered in front of them. It rains—on the island, on the crew, and on the growling creature inside of the crate.Safe in the guard tower up above, the founder of the operation watches, for a moment, before turning on his heel and reaching for the phone on the wall. “Aye,” he says, when the operator picks up, “I’d like to make contact with Dr. Hanlon in Montana, please.”*Or, a Jurassic Park AU.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 207





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so we've been teasing this on twitter for around a week and finally decided we were ready to post the first part :)
> 
> as this is based on the movie which contains scenes with violence and death, there will be some present in this fic. no major character death, and there will be warnings at the beginning of each chapter as needed.
> 
> without further ado, enjoy!

Just over a hundred miles west of the farthest point of Costa Rica, on a small cay known as Isla Nublar, a grim-faced crew gathers as a crate is lowered in front of them. It rains—on the island, on the crew, and on the growling creature inside of the crate.

There’s silence as the crew looks to their leader for instruction—an Australian woman, standing with her arms crossed, staring at the cage with a severe frown.

“Alright,” she calls finally, and it nearly gets lost in the rain. Raising her voice, she continues, “Loading team, move in. Don’t let her know you’re afraid.”

She doesn’t need her crew to speak to know that they are—afraid, that is. She can see it in their eyes. She can taste it in the rain. Still, they trust her. She orders, they follow. They’ve dealt with fear before. They believe she will keep them safe.

A green light activates, when the back of the crate slots into place.

The crew looks to their leader again.

With a solemn voice, Marsh commands, “Alright, then. Let’s raise the gate.”

  
  
  


From his spot safe in the guard tower, the founder of the operation watches, for a moment, before turning on his heel and reaching for the phone on the wall. “Aye,” he says, when the operator picks up, “I’d like to make contact with Dr. Hanlon in Montana, please.”

* * *

“Eddie, come check this out,” Mike calls. He crouches in the sand, examining the claw that was just pressed into his hand. It’s not the first time he’s held a raptor’s claw in his hand—nor will it be the last, he’s sure—but it excites him the same way it did when he was a kid.

Eddie comes up behind him, out of breath from climbing up the sandy hill. He puts his hand on Mike’s shoulder as he bends down. “What? Claw?”

“No, look,” Mike says, with a shake of his head and a point towards the fossils they’ve just uncovered. He pockets the claw, for now. “The skeletons. Four of them, complete. All together. What do you think that means?”

“They died together?” Eddie suggests. He pulls a rag from his back pocket and wipes sweat from his brow. “Which would prove our theory that they lived together. Shit, this suggests some kind of social order. Families?”

Mike mulls it over in his head. It’s a lot to take in, their project. Every day. A lot of information they have to figure out with so little evidence. His favorite kind of puzzle. He loves the research. The unearthing of things people—or dinosaurs, in this case—left behind, for whatever reason. They’ve got to find reasons for this, though. The project depends on it, and by extension, their livelihood itself. “Maybe. But what killed them, in a group like this?”

Eddie huffs and grunts as he pushes up on Mike’s shoulder, standing up again. He extends a hand to Mike to pull him up. “Well, we better find a good explanation,” Eddie starts.

“I know,” Mike mutters. He looks back down at the lakebed, where the skeletons lay intertwined together. A species some several million years old, and this is the only proof that they existed at all. Bones in the ground.

“Dr. Hanlon! Dr. Kaspbrak!”

They both turn to the volunteer who shouts at them from a tent where the computers are set up. She excitedly waves them both down. “We’re ready to try again!”

Eddie sighs. “I still fucking hate computers,” Eddie reminds Mike, as they start back down the hill. “This kind of technology could make us obsolete, you get that, right? This kind of technology is going to completely eliminate the need for us.”

“Scientists?” Mike asks, with a small upturn of his mouth. Eddie rolls his eyes and elbows Mike’s stomach. “Nah, Eddie, there’ll always be a need for guys like us. New technology isn’t going to come up with or prove theories.”

“I guess,” Eddie says reluctantly. “But I’m serious, Mike, they keep saying. A few more years of development and they won’t even need us to dig anymore.”

Mike gives him a mock-wounded look. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”

They duck into the tent housing the computer terminal, and the volunteer shifts in her seat to make room for them to hover over her. “You ready, Dr. Hanlon?”

“Whenever you are,” Mike confirms.

She nods. “Thumper ready?”

Across the way, someone calls, “Ready!”

“Fire.”

The volunteer throws the switch, driving a pellet into the ground with a bang that seems to vibrate the floor around them. There’s excited chatter as everyone crowds around the computer, waiting.

Eddie huffs as someone elbows him, and is given an apologetic look for his efforts. To the volunteer, he says, “How long does it normally take to return?”

“Almost immediate,” the volunteer answers. “We shoot the radar into the ground, the bone bounces back, and…” She points as the screen comes alive, lighting up with lines detailing a distinguished dinosaur skeleton. “Voila! What do you think of the new program, Dr. Hanlon?”

“Amazing,” Mike breathes. “Look at that. The distortion, that’s not the computer, is it?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I’d bet my last dollar it’s not. Look. Postmortem contraction of the posterior neck ligaments. Mike, this another velociraptor?”

Without removing his gaze from the screen, Mike says, “Yeah, and she's in beautiful shape. Likely six feet high. I’d guess nine feet long. Look,” he points to the screen, “look at the half-moon shaped bone in her wrist. It’s no wonder they learned to fly.”

“Save the lecture for people who are interested, buddy,” Eddie says, patting his arm.

“They’re interested,” Mike protests, raising his head to look at the group behind him. They all give him sheepish looks. Mike frowns. “Haven’t any of you read my book?”

Eddie raises his hand, but he’s near the only one. Hesitantly, the volunteer at the computer raises her hand too. Mike sighs, put out, but the group is spared from his lecture when they notice dirt picking up around their feet.

“What the hell?” Mike murmurs.

It picks up in speed as they stand there, the wind steadily getting stronger. The voices of the other volunteers start filling the tent as quickly as the sand does. Mike looks at Eddie, confused, but Eddie’s turned his head to the sky. 

“Fucking helicopter!” Eddie shouts, over the roar of the machine as it gets closer and louder. The helicopter makes more of a mess the more it descends. Mike pulls his bandana up over his mouth and takes off running towards it to meet them; Eddie turns to the volunteers. “Get the canvasses! Cover everything we’ve exposed!”

Dirt is kicked up by the wind like it was waiting for a reason to be airborne, coating computers and canvas and clothes. By the time Mike reaches them, the copter has already landed. He pulls his bandana down as soon as the blades start to slow, and yells, “This is an excavation, why are you flying a helicopter around here?”

“Not my call, sir,” the pilot yells back. Mike gestures wildly, and the pilot points to the direction of the mobile home that serves as the research project office. Mike scoffs and turns. The door to the trailer is still open, not even shut properly.

He storms across the flats to the trailer, slamming the door open so strongly it bangs loudly against the opposite wall. Mike looks around wildly until his gaze catches on the man looting through the office refrigerator. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Celebrating!” says a voice, muffled from inside the fridge. Mike fumes silently in the doorway. He huffs in disbelief when he sees the man grab ahold of the expensive bottle of champagne they’ve stored there since they broke ground a few weeks ago.

“Excuse me, we’re saving that—” Mike starts. The rest of it gets lost in his throat when the man finally turns around, leaning heavy on the cane in his left hand. As familiar as the day they met, with features that have only grown more defined and handsome with time, Bill Denbrough stands in Mike’s trailer and grins at him brilliantly.

“For this, I’d hope,” he says.

“ _Bill?_ ” Mike gasps, and he’s lurching forward to tug his old friend into a hug before he’s even aware his body is moving. Bill laughs against Mike’s chest, hugging him back without a thought for the dirt clinging to Mike’s clothes, still holding the champagne bottle and cane in his hands. “What the hell, man, what are you doing here?”

“Supposed I’d come check out the project I’ve spent fifty thousand a year on. Seems that it’s been money well spent,” Bill tells him, pulling away gently and tapping his cane against Mike’s calf. 

Mike blinks, startled. He starts, “You—”

The door slams open again, thunderous footsteps echoing as Eddie barges his way in. “Alright who’s the jerk that put three weeks of research down the drain?”

Bill pops the bottle of champagne.

“We were saving that!” Eddie snaps, hair wild and dusty from the chopper. Spots of angry color stain his cheeks as he glares at Bill.

Mike puts a hand on Eddie’s chest, holding him back. “Bill, this is our paleobotanist, Dr. Eddie Kaspbrak. Brilliant mind, highly respected in his field, we were lucky to get him on board. I, uh, I remember the board pushing very hard for his acceptance of the offer, I’m not sure if you were privy to that.”

Instead of extending a hand, Bill pours champagne into a cup and offers it to Eddie, who bristles in response. Mike squeezes his bicep to keep him from saying something. “Lovely to meet you, Dr. Kaspbrak. I’m Dr. Bill Denbrough, but I think you’d know me better as the man who’s been funding your digs out here.”

“Denbrough,” Eddie says, a little bit shell-shocked. He takes the cup that Bill hands to him. His cheeks turn a little pink as he hastily says, “Dr. Denbrough, I apologize for my behavior upon entering, I’m sure you can—I’m sure you can understand the stress we’re under but we’re very grateful to you, sir, I’m sorry—”

Bill waves a dismissive hand in the air before pouring champagne into another cup and handing it off to Mike. “Aye, none of this ‘sir’ nonsense. Known Mike here for almost two decades. Old friends. This is just. Two friends from university catching up.”

“So we’re cracking open the expensive champagne for your frat party reunion?” Eddie asks with a pinch in his brow. He grunts when Mike elbows him. Under his breath, Eddie mutters, “I thought you went to college in Chicago.”

Whispering, Mike says back, “They let people from Scotland in, sometimes.”

“I’m sorry for the dramatics,” Bill says, as he pours his own glass of champagne. “But I am in a wee bit of a hurry. Hope you’ll understand if I just get right into it.”

Mike and Eddie exchange a look, before Mike gives Bill a skeptical nod.

Bill smiles warmly. That same charming, cocky grin he had when he was eighteen years old and thought that he’d one day take over the world. He leans against his cane and begins, “So. I own an island.”

Instantly transported back to his youth, Mike rolls his eyes. Like no time has passed between them at all. “Of course. What else would you do with your millions when your business took off?”

“Shut it,” Bill tells him. “There’s an island, off the coast of Costa Rica. Spent the last five years setting up a biological preserve. It’s spectacular. My team, they’ve created something. Magnificent. Beautiful. No doubt that sooner or later our attractions will call to kids from all over.”

“And what are those?” Eddie asks, curious.

“Smaller versions of adults, Eddie,” Mike whispers, and he laughs when Eddie shoots him a dirty look.

“You haven’t changed,” Bill muses. He pushes himself forward. “This attraction though, it’s for everyone. Opening next year, unless the lawyers shut us down. I don’t care for lawyers. Have one in particular, breathing right down my neck. He insists upon getting outside opinions.”

Mike furrows his brow, a little bit lost. “What kind of opinions?”

“What’s this got to do with us?” Eddie chimes in. Straight to the point, as always. He doesn’t know Bill the way that Mike does. Doesn’t have seventeen years of friendship behind them that gives him reason to inherently trust Bill. Though, if Mike’s being honest, he’s not sure how anyone can resist trusting Bill as soon as they see his smile.

“Well, it’s your opinion I’d like,” Bill says. He puts his cup of champagne down, untouched. “Mike said it earlier. In your particular fields, you're the top minds. Best of the best. Not to mention, Mike, you’ve been one of my best friends for years. An endorsement from both of you—just, a _wee_ testimonial—then my crew and I, we can get back on schedule.”

Eddie glances between Bill and Mike again. He doesn’t know Bill, but he does know Mike—has for a few years now. Mike thinks that if he agrees, Eddie will, too. “Why would they want our opinions, specifically?”

Nodding, Mike tacks on, “Bill, what kind of park is this?”

“Oh, it’s,” Bill says with a laugh. He picks his drink up and extends it towards Mike and Eddie for a toast. “It’s right up your alley. Look, can I convince the pair of you to come down for the weekend? I have a jet set up, not far from here. We’ll take care of everything, of course.”

Guiltily, Mike glances out the window, to where the volunteers are working hard to clean up the mess. Children gather around the newly unveiled skeleton, chattering excitedly. “I’m not sure it’s possible, Bill,” he says eventually.

But Bill’s got that damn glint in his eye. “I can compensate you by having my company fully fund your dig.”

“The timing is just unusual,” Mike continues, gaze darting to Eddie.

Bill raises an eyebrow. Unbothered. Easy. Excitable. Just the same guy he was in undergrad. “For a further three years,” he continues, like he’d been planning to say it all along.

Eddie elbows Mike’s ribs sharply and raises his own cup, clinking it against Bill’s. “Where’s the plane?”

* * *

They fly to a small airport in Costa Rica, before Bill explains that there’s no place for planes on the island yet and that they’ll have to take a helicopter the rest of the way. Mike and Eddie grab their bags and follow Bill onto the tarmac.

It’s bright, humid. Eddie squints up at the sun, mentally reminding himself to reapply sunscreen soon. He adjusts his tank top and slides his sunglasses on. “Where’s the chopper?” he asks.

Bill looks at him. “Oh, over there,” he says easily. “But we’re waiting for one more guest to arrive before we head to the island. The mathematician.”

“Our opinions weren’t enough?” Mike teases, though there’s a bit of genuine curiosity in his voice. Both of them are still uncertain as to what sort of attraction Bill is taking them to. What kind of park requires the approval of a paleontologist, a paleobotanist, and a mathematician?

Eddie kicks a rock down the tarmac before raising his gaze again. He’s never been anywhere tropical like this. His idea of a vacation is sand kicked up in the badlands as they uncover skeletons. But it’s nice. They’re close to the shore. He watches a wave tumble over itself, then watches two children chase after each other on the beach, screaming with delight. Without a care in the world.

They certainly aren’t thinking about some insane park with a secret premise.

Mike and Bill shoot the shit, catching up on recent developments. Eddie eavesdrops, though he knows he shouldn’t. They went to undergrad together, but kept in touch after going their separate ways. Mike got his Master’s, then his PhD, then another Master’s. Bill got filthy rich, details withheld. Somehow, Mike hadn’t known that it was Bill’s company funding their dig.

“Knew you wouldn’t accept it if you knew,” Bill says with a shrug. “But I had the resources, and I believed in you, so.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and looks back to the water.

At around the thirty minute mark of waiting, Bill excuses himself to get the pilot. Eddie turns to Mike with an annoyed scowl and asks, “Where the hell is this mathematician?”

“Well, holy fucking shit. Dr. Kaspbrak, as I live and breathe.”

Eddie’s on high alert the moment he hears his voice, spine stiffening and hands breaking out in sweat. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in years, but one that’s just as familiar as his own.

Richie Tozier leers at him when Eddie turns around. Tall as fucking ever, dressed head to toe in black, save for the ugliest patterned shirt Eddie’s ever seen unbuttoned under his leather jacket. He’s grown his hair out and pulled it into a bun. A few stray curls have broken free, framing his grinning face and thick rimmed glasses. Eddie feels hot under the collar in more ways than one.

“You are aware we’re going to an island, right?” is the first thing out of Eddie’s mouth. Richie tosses his head back to laugh. 

“Incredible,” Richie says. “More than ten years since I’ve seen this guy, and the first thing he does is insult me.”

“That’s just Eddie’s personality,” Mike says with a chuckle, and the way he ignores Eddie glaring at him seems pointed. It’s too late, regardless. Richie latches onto it immediately, extending his hand towards Mike.

“Dr. Richard Tozier. But please, god, call me Richie,” he says. Eddie’s eyes screw shut when he feels Mike's eyes on him. 

“Oh, _Richie_ ,” Mike says slowly. Eddie’s going to kill him. 

“You heard of me?” Richie asks, grinning with delight. His eyes are trained on Eddie for his reaction, so Eddie tries very hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Yeah, I read your book,” Mike answers easily. 

Richie looks away from Eddie, _finally,_ and turns to face Mike with an unbothered smile. “Yeah? What’d you think?”

“Eh, was a little hard to follow,” Mike says. God, Eddie loves him. “Really wordy, though I enjoyed your metaphors on the Butterfly Effect, hard to follow as they were.” 

“Hm. Noted, thank you for the feedback,” Richie murmurs. He shoots Mike an easy wink. “I’ll let my ghostwriter know.”

“You didn’t have a ghostwriter for your fucking book, Richie,” Eddie says. It tears out of him before he’s even aware he wants to say it. Richie’s eyes snap back to his; Eddie refuses to blush. He changes direction, asking, “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited, Eduardo,” Richie tells him. He’s far too amused by this entire thing, with an air of cocky arrogance that makes Eddie certain this weekend is going to be unbearable. “Seems dear old Billy Denbrough was positively dying for my opinion on his little project.” 

“Christ,” Eddie mutters under his breath. 

“That’s Dr. Tozier to you, Dr. K,” Richie says, grinning crookedly. 

In an act of god or pure dumb luck, Bill returns with the pilot. He instructs them to board the chopper. 

Eddie crowds into Mike’s personal space once they board, silently fuming and trying pointedly to look anywhere except for across from him where Richie takes his seat next to Bill. It doesn’t seem to matter, anyway—Richie radiates no matter where he is, and Eddie’s aware of all of Richie’s movements more than he’s aware of his own.

“So,” Richie says conversationally, yelling over the roar of the engine. “You two dig up dinosaurs for a living?”

Eddie scowls and ducks his head, leaving Mike to respond with an amused, “We certainly try to.”

Richie sits back, laughing. Greatly amused. Next to him, Bill rolls his eyes and says, “You’ll have to get used to Dr. Tozier. He was recently diagnosed with a deplorable excess of personality. Quite tragic, really. Especially for a mathematician.”

“Chaotician, my dearest William,” Richie corrects. He pats Bill’s knee and smirks when Bill scowls. “Chaotician.”

“Not a thing,” Bill mutters under his breath.

Richie appears as unbothered as ever. Eddie wonders if he actually feels as cool as he looks. He shifts in his seat, says conspiringly to Mike and Eddie, “Bill here doesn’t subscribe to Chaos. He’s _really_ not a fan about what Chaos has to say about his little million-dollar middle-school science project.”

“If this were a school science project, I’d have my daughter in charge,” Bill bites back. Mike stifles a laugh behind his hand. Eddie’s glad, at least, that one of them is entertained by this whole thing. He doesn’t understand how Mike can go blindly into this without knowing what Bill’s gotten up to. “Chaos Theory, as you call it, is just fashionable number crunching. That’s all there is to it.”

“Sure, Bill,” Richie says in a complacent tone. “Hanlon, you’ve read my book. You’ve heard of Chaos Theory, yes?”

Mike shrugs, grinning as he says, “Is that what the book was about?” 

Richie gapes at him. Eddie’s ready this time, when Richie turns to face him. “Eds? Don’t let me down here. Chaos Theory?”

“It’s Eddie.”

“Jesus Christ. _Esteemed Edward,_ you’ve heard of Chaos Theory, right?” Richie asks. Eddie shakes his head. “Non-linear equations? Strange attractions?”

“Nope,” Eddie tells him tightly.

But Richie’s led him right into his trap. With an oily grin, Richie says, “Oh, Eddie, I know for a _fact_ that you are familiar with the concept of attraction.” 

Behind his hand, Mike stifles another laugh. Eddie flushes a bright pink in his seat and pointedly looks out his window. It’s quiet, for a while, no one wanting to yell over the roar of the engine more than they need to. Eddie watches the waves crash beneath them, fascinated.

Finally, Bill claps his hands together and points out his own window, saying excitedly, “There it is! Isla Nublar.”

They all turn to look out the window. Isla Nublar is a small island, not much to look at from this distance. Covered with trees and enveloped by thick clouds that bring the promise of rain. From their place in the sky, Eddie can’t yet see what they’re meant to be looking at. They make their way through a gap in the trees, and then they’re surrounded by jungle. 

The chopper jerks violently. Eddie yelps and reaches out, grasping Mike’s hand tightly.

Apologetically, and in a tight voice, Bill shouts, “Bad wind shears. We’ll be dropping fast. Hold on to something.”

Teasingly, Richie extends a hand to Eddie, like he genuinely expects Eddie to take it. Eddie smacks it away with his free hand. Richie’s laughing as he reaches up and grabs hold of a bar on the top of the interior. It’s a rough journey to landing, bumpier than Eddie cares for. Outside the window, they’re uncomfortably close to the cliff walls. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut.

“Eventually, we’ll build an airstrip,” Bill continues. Eddie thinks he’s just talking to distract them, at this point. He’s grateful for it. “We’ll build it on pilings, extending out into the water around twelve thousand feet. Like your airports in New York, except a thousand times safer.”

Mike laughs, a little maniacally. Bill’s mouth snaps shut audibly.

They land with a jolty bump that shakes the windows of the chopper. Eddie takes a few deep breaths, giving his stomach a chance to settle again now that they’re back on solid ground. When he opens his eyes, Richie is watching him. 

“What?” Eddie demands loudly. His ears are still ringing, even as the engine dies down.

“Still not a fan of flying, huh?” Richie asks, softer than Eddie expected.

He huffs impatiently and fiddles with his seatbelt. Looking down, he snaps, “I’m fine.”

Richie shrugs and unbuckles his own seatbelt, unfolding his long legs and following Bill out of the chopper. Mike glances at Eddie, raising his eyebrows briefly, but Eddie shakes his head so Mike stands and follows suit. Eddie takes a moment alone to curse anyone and everyone, including Bill Denbrough, responsible for bringing him to this moment. 

The air is humid and sticky when he steps out of the helicopter, more so now that they're in the thick of the jungle; he’s immediately thankful he had the foresight to dress appropriately, unlike Richie in his black jeans and leather. For a moment, all he sees is green. They’re completely surrounded by jungle on all sides, enveloped in the thick trees and fauna. Behind him is a waterfall, and between the water and the helicopter still idling loudly, it takes him a moment to get his bearings. In the distance he sees Bill, Mike, and Richie shaking hands with an unfamiliar blonde man, all huddled near three jeeps with an indiscernible emblem on their doors.

Bill waves him over, so Eddie jogs to catch up with them. As he approaches, Bill says, “Dr. Kaspbrak, this is Connor Bowers. He represents my investors, so he’ll be… following us around and speaking legalese this weekend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie says, shaking Bower’s extended hand. “You have any idea what we’re in for?”

Grimly, Bowers says, “Unfortunately.”

“It would quite ruin the surprise, I think, if we discussed it now,” Bill interrupts before Bowers can elaborate. Mike rolls his eyes; when this whole thing is over, Eddie can’t wait to pester Mike about Bill and how they know each other. “Come now, I’ve only got you for the next forty-eight hours. Let's get moving.” 

They pile into two of the three jeeps, each with their own driver. Bowers and Bill take the first one; Richie makes a point to trail behind Eddie with a shit-eating grin on his face as he heads for the second. Eddie climbs into the passenger seat to avoid him. Unbothered, Richie takes the seat directly behind him, leaving Mike to climb into the spot behind the driver.

“Nice try, Spaghetti,” Richie says, hooking his chin over the seat so he can murmur it in Eddie’s ear.

Eddie chooses not to answer, focusing instead on extending a hand to introduce himself to the driver. Mike and Richie strike up a conversation in the backseat as they start driving further into the jungle. Eddie does his best to ignore it. He tries to pay attention to where they’re going, eyes peeled for any clues as to what exactly Bill’s gotten them into.

“Eddie? What do you think?” Mike asks, bringing Eddie back in.

“What?” Eddie twists around to face him. 

“The logo on the jeeps—they say Jurassic Park. What do you think about that?” 

“Guess it’d explain why they asked us to come,” Eddie says, gesturing to himself and Mike. He frowns. “But why the fuck would they want our opinion on a park? Do they need us to tell them if their skeleton displays are accurate?” 

“I don’t think it’s a museum,” Richie offers up. Eddie resists the instinctive urge to roll his eyes. “Denbrough definitely wouldn’t have shelled out what I charge for a rinky dink museum in the middle of a jungle.” 

“ _What you charge,_ ” Eddie mocks under his breath. 

Richie lets out a tight laugh. “My time is valuable, Eds. Why shouldn’t I be compensated for it?”

“You do _math_ for a living, for fucks sake. You’re no better than a glorified calculator, and they make new models of those every day.” 

“I see someone’s still bitter he had to take calculus twice—” 

“Oh _fuck_ off, Richie—!”

“What the hell is that?” Mike interrupts, pointing ahead of them. 

They’re approaching a fence, nearly as tall as the massive trees surrounding them. The blinking lights and the large signs that read “Danger! 10,000 Volts” indicate that the fence is electrified. Two employees dressed in khakis and pale pink polos wait for them, opening the double gate as the jeeps pass through. They close back up immediately, locking the gates as the jeeps pass, with bars sliding into place that look like they weigh half a ton each.

Eddie checks on the others’ reactions—Mike and Richie’s mouths hang open slightly, gaping at the fence as it disappears behind them. The three of them exchange a bewildered look. Eddie had assumed as they went deeper into the jungle that he’d find some answers, but his curiosity remains unsated.

They take a brief detour to grab some water and use the restroom, a small building made of bamboo that seems strategically placed along the road. Bill advises them they’re going to be heading a little deeper into the wilderness but refuses to elaborate when pressed. Before climbing back into the jeeps, something at the edge of the trees catches Eddie’s eye. He breaks away from the group to check it out. 

“What the fuck?” he mutters under his breath. 

His fingers brush over the enormous leaves of a veriforman plant. Before he can examine it any closer, he hears Bill calling after him. He plucks off one of the leaves, larger than his own head, and rejoins the others. 

“It doesn’t make sense,” Eddie murmurs, five minutes into the second leg of their journey.

“What do you mean?” Mike asks, craning his neck around as they deviate from the road they’ve been driving on and veer onto open grassland.

Eddie doesn’t answer, still engrossed in the plant in his hands. Dark green with red markings on the surface, patterned like veins. He _knows_ what he’s looking at is impossible, but he’s also incredibly good at his job. He’s certain that he’s not mistaken about what he’s holding, and his mind races as he tries to figure out how it could be possible. 

The jeeps come to an abrupt stop; Eddie’s vaguely aware of Bill shouting at the drivers to pull over ahead of them. Eddie lurches forward in his seat and falls back again without taking his eyes off the leaf. “This shouldn’t _be_ here.”

He doesn’t get a response. Mike often ignores him when they’re in the field together, familiar with Eddie’s penchant for working things out by talking to himself. But this time Eddie is actually looking for an answer—hell, he’d take one from Richie at this point, who’s gone suspiciously quiet as well. He sees Mike stand in his seat out of the corner of his eye; Richie follows moments later.

“Mike,” Eddie presses more urgently, hoping that perhaps Mike will look down at him now. “This species of veriforman has been extinct since the _Cretaceous_ period, this makes. No fucking sense.”

“Eddie,” Richie says quietly, awed. 

“No, I’m not joking, this plant hasn’t existed on earth for sixty-five million years, what the fuck is it doing— _hey—_ ”

Richie’s hand falls unceremoniously onto the top of Eddie’s head, pressing his fingers down just enough that he can turn Eddie’s head to the left. Eddie’s about to slap his hand away and protest before he catches sight of what Richie’s showing him, and all at once his heart stops beating. Slowly, he pulls himself up so he’s standing too, shoulder almost brushing against Richie’s in the confined room of the jeep, and he stares. 

It’s a dinosaur. A living, _breathing_ dinosaur—a brachiosaurus, to be specific. Enormous and beautiful and impossible. It’s one thing to try and comprehend the immensity of these creatures from examining their skeletons—it’s another entirely to see the creature as it moves, to hear the sounds it makes, theory becoming fact before his very eyes. It’s humbling. It’s _surreal._

“ _Fuck_ me,” Richie breathes next to him. Eddie turns to look at him, and Richie lets out a short, near hysterical laugh when their eyes meet. Eddie glances at Mike, whose jaw has dropped nearly to the floor, then Bill, in the other jeep, watching Mike closely. But he can only look away for so long, before his gaze is drawn back to the brachiosaurus that does nothing more than _exist_ in front of them.

Mike’s the first to come back to himself, pushing open the jeep door without much ceremony and nearly falling out in his haste to get closer. Richie keeps himself close to Eddie’s side as they follow, both of them craning their necks and shielding their eyes to get a better look.

“That’s, uh,” Mike starts, sounding like he’s just had the wind knocked out of him. “That’s… that’s a dinosaur.” 

Bill joins the three of them, face beaming as he nods. “Yes, it is.” 

“You did it,” Richie says, grinning as they watch the brachiosaurus tug leaves from the top of the nearest tree and chew with great force. “You insane son of a bitch, you did it.” 

“You… you knew about this?” Eddie asks, turning to Richie once again.

But Richie’s shaking his head, unable to look away. His voice is awestruck as he answers, “I knew the theories, the research—I never fucking thought I’d see this, though. Not in my lifetime.”

Richie looks to Eddie, and just like that the air clears. Tension melts away as though it were never there at all. As though they’re back in that lab in freshman biology, meeting for the first time as they clean saline off the table. Richie smiles at him and suddenly Eddie is twenty years old again, sitting between Richie’s legs in his tiny apartment while Eddie studies evolutionary biology. Whispering stupid pneumonic nicknames in Eddie’s ear to help him remember the different species. Richie had always loved paleontology, almost as much as Eddie, and Eddie can see that the wondrous glint in his own eyes is reflected in Richie’s. 

It would be impossible not to feel it in the presence of the marvel in front of them. 

“Oh, Eddie, we can tear up the book on cold-bloodedness,” Mike says to him in a rush, and Eddie’s thirty-five again and more aware of the present than ever. Mike drops a hand onto his shoulder, then points to the brachiosaurus with his free hand as he continues, “They’re totally wrong, look—look at this animal, it’s a warm-blooded creature. God, just _look_ at it—” 

“I see it, Mike,” Eddie says weakly. He’s grateful for Mike’s hand on his shoulder, as it steadies him more than anything else. “Still trying to convince myself I’m not fucking hallucinating.” 

“You’re not, I can assure you,” Bill says from behind them. Eddie glances back. Bill leans heavy on his cane, but he’s still smiling proudly, watching Mike closely for his reaction. Behind him, Bowers stands next to the jeep, gaping wordlessly in open-mouthed wonder.

“Bill, this—he’s got what, a twenty-five, twenty-six foot neck?” Mike asks, barely taking his eyes off the animal to ask the question. 

“ _She,_ actually, has about thirty, thirty-one. When they’re full grown. Our largest is thirty-four feet.”

“Largest,” Eddie says faintly.

“Jesus. _Jesus,_ ” Mike murmurs, shaking his head.

They move closer, hesitantly. With a roar that echoes in the open space around them, the brachiosaurus rears up on her hind legs to reach the tallest branches of the tree she’s feeding off of. Richie grabs Eddie’s wrist, unable to keep himself from laughing helplessly as he meets Eddie’s eyes. Eddie doesn’t fight it. He forgets why he wants to, forgets about the fights and the distance and the messy end that made everything so complicated. Forgets it in favor of this moment, _this,_ with Richie, and with a _living dinosaur,_ and with everything. Eddie beams right back before they turn to watch as the giant creature lowers herself back down, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

“Eddie, did you see, I—” Mike trails off, turning to look at him for the first time since they stopped. His eyes shine with tears. 

“I saw, Mikey,” Eddie tells him. Richie silently releases his wrist.

Mike turns his eyes back to the dinosaur, taking another hesitant step closer. “How fast are they?”

“Well, we clocked the t-rex at thirty miles per hour,” Bill says.

“Oh my god—” Eddie gasps. 

“T-rex?” Mike asks slowly, turning to face Bill again. 

“You—you have a t-rex?” Eddie repeats, ignoring the way Richie’s laughter starts to echo between all of them.

Bill looks quite proud as he says, “Yes.”

Mike stumbles forward, gripping Bill’s shoulders hard. “Say it again.” 

Bill laughs, glancing at his feet before looking back up at Mike. “Well, alright. We have a t-rex.” 

“Oh…” 

Mike sways, and Richie laughs again as he staggers away from Bill. 

“Oh my god, Mike, sit down,” Eddie instructs, reaching for his shoulders to help him as he falls back. “Put your head between your knees.” 

“Good old Dr. K,” Richie says fondly. 

He falls to his knees next to Mike, helping him maintain his breathing. Mike calms after a moment and looks into the distance. 

“Eddie—Eddie, look.”

Eddie follows his gaze—in the distance are three more brachiosauruses, wading through a large body of water. At the edge of the water, a group of parasaurolophus are grazing together. They look every bit like a family unit, the way Eddie and Mike always hypothesized. Together, they watch them in silence, Eddie’s hand on Mike’s shoulder to ground him, Mike’s fingers gripping Eddie’s wrist to keep them steady. Eddie thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“They’re moving in herds,” Mike says quietly. His eyes are shiny with tears.

Bill and Richie join them, the silence between them reverent as they watch the impossible unfold before them. 

“Dr. Kaspbrak, Dr. Tozier… My dear Mike,” Bill says, at last. “Welcome to Jurassic Park.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter include a scene depicting a dinosaur birth, mentioned/vaguely described animal death, minor blood mentions, and characters smoking. please proceed with caution as needed.
> 
> please check out gorgeous artwork that's been created so far! you can see those [here](https://twitter.com/LilyMuumi/status/1307782962507706370?s=20) and [here](https://twitter.com/THED0GARTS/status/1306693904910163975?s=20) (and if you like those, please make sure to support the artists and like/retweet/follow, they very much deserve it!)
> 
> we are blown away by the excitement we received for the first chapter, and we hope that we continue to not disappoint!! without further ado, we present the second chapter

They drive to their next destination in a stunned haze, all three of them watching the foliage blur past the windows as they drive by. No doubt that they’re all looking for another glimpse of a dinosaur, like Mike is. He can’t help but wonder what other species they have here. How many species of living, breathing dinosaurs they’ve been able to recreate—and _how,_ of course, they managed to do so. And, as Eddie had pointed out, it’s not just the dinosaurs. Species of extinct plant life are littered throughout the island; Eddie makes surprised little noises at every one they pass, muttering their scientific names under his breath. 

Richie seems suspiciously quiet on the ride back. Mike doesn’t know him very well—only just met him, truly, and only heard about him in passing before this trip. But this is not how he pictured the infamous Dr. Richie Tozier, and the anxious way Eddie keeps glancing back at him indicates Mike is right to think he’s acting unnaturally solemn. He might feel more inclined to contemplate on it if he weren’t currently on an island where his childhood fantasies roam free.

The jeeps pull around a large man-made pond before coming to a stop in front of a newly built visitor’s center; parts of it are still under construction. Mike waves to the workers painting the south side as they pass, grinning as they wave back and call greetings to him in Spanish. Eddie’s standing up and jumping out of the jeep before they’ve even come to a complete stop, staring curiously at the building.

“You weren’t joking when you say you spared no expense,” he says critically, as Bill lowers himself out of his own jeep. Bowers isn’t far behind him.

Mike shoots Eddie a sharp look, but Bill just laughs it off with a wave of his free hand. “Aye, figured what better way to spend my money than going all out on the greatest attraction of our generation?”

“It’s certainly something,” Richie agrees, as the rest of them clamber out to stand by Eddie’s side.

Bill gives them a minute to take the building in, from the expansive concrete steps leading to heavy metal doors, to the decorative siding that gives the appearance of fossils partially uncovered in the ground. Mike’s heart pangs looking at it, suddenly feeling a thousand miles away back in Montana. He can’t help but wonder how the dig is going, continuing on without them—or whether there will be any point to it anymore after this. 

“Come on, then,” Bill says eventually, and he takes the first step up the stairs. “We haven’t got all day, there’s still so much to see.”

The doors glide open for them as they approach the top of the stairs, revealing an open interior split into two floors. Two enormous assembled skeletons hang from the ceiling, arranged in battle—the larger is a t-rex, the smaller looks to be a triceratops. Bill takes them up the next set of stairs along the farthest wall, leading them to the next wing.

“This will be the most technologically advanced amusement park the world has ever seen,” Bill says confidently. His cane echoes loudly as it strikes the tiled floor with each step. Mike follows him closely. “And we aren’t just talking rides, you know. Any amusement park can have rides. We’ve done something far grander and rare. Living, biological attractions so astonishing that the entire planet will be looking at us.”

Eddie catches the way that Mike turns to look at the fossils hanging from the ceiling. In a quiet voice, Eddie asks, “What are you thinking?”

With a careful, disbelieving laugh, Mike murmurs, “That we’re out of a job.”

“Don’t you mean extinct?” Richie offers, giving them a delighted grin when they turn to look at him. He huffs when neither of them crack a smile. “Alright, sorry. Just trying to add some levity to this shit.”

“We’re on an island with fucking _dinosaurs_ , Richie,” Eddie says, hissing it under his breath so that Bill, who’s still talking as he leads them forward, won’t hear. 

Richie rolls his eyes. “And yet it’s colder than the Ice Age in here.”

“That’s not—” Eddie starts, but Mike grabs his forearm and tugs him forward, effectively cutting him off before he can continue the argument. Eddie won’t admit it now, but Mike’s certain he’ll be grateful for it later.

“This will be one of our attractions,” Bill explains excitedly, as he opens a door and ushers them all inside. Mike’s the last to enter, taking in the small room set up like a movie theater. There’s a large screen at the front, complete with velvet maroon seats and what looks like roller coaster safety bars in the front of each one. Bill taps his cane against Mike’s heel and winks at him when Mike turns to glare at him. “Go on, sit. Front row, all of you. Now, eventually this will be a film, complete with animation and such, s-soon as I can get over my stage fright. Heh.”

Mike watches Bill with a concerned eye as he takes the stage ahead of them. Bill never was one for public speaking, which is why most days Mike finds it so hard to wrap his head around Bill becoming as successful as he has. And it had been intriguing, back then, to watch a man so full of leadership and charm struggle to handle large crowds of people. It was part of what drew Mike to Bill in the first place, his intelligence and charisma wrapped in humble modesty. Now, though, it sends a pang through his chest. Mike watches the nervous shake of Bill’s hands as he pulls cards out of his shirt pocket, and he wishes he could hold them to soothe his old friend.

“N-now,” Bill begins, and he swallows thickly. He looks up from his cards to grin sheepishly at the group. “This whole process, of course, begins with a d-drop of blood.”

“Loy extraction?” Eddie asks immediately, furrowing his brow. “That method has only been used as a backup, this type of cloning has never been able to produce a complete strand of DNA.”

From the seat next to Eddie, Richie chimes in, “There’s only so much you can glean from grinding up dinosaur bones in the hope of extracting a few blood cells. Any DNA strand that’s been recovered has had massive sequence gaps.”

“Where could you possibly find paleo-DNA?” Eddie continues, turning back to Bill. “Where the hell do you get 100-million year old dinosaur blood?”

Bowers shushes them, not politely, and Eddie turns to give him a sharp glare.

“How about we let Bill explain, hm?” Mike suggests, stopping Eddie before he can launch into another argument.

Bill looks at him gratefully. “I kn-know you’re all scientists, but I hope you won’t mind me going through the whole bit. Could use the p-p-practice before they stick me in front of the camera again.”

They all nod. Even Bowers, who sits a few rows behind everyone, quiets and waits patiently.

“Well then,” Bill starts. He clears his throat. “One drop of blood can c-contain billions of strands of DNA, as you know. And as Dr. Tozier p-pointed out, no one has ever managed to obtain a full sample—there were always g-g-gaps in the sequence.” 

Bill pauses to take a breath. “It’s silly, I know, to be so nervous, I apologize.” 

“It’s fine, Bill,” Mike assures him gently. Eddie elbows him not-so-subtly, but he ignores it. 

“R-right. Thank you. Er, anyway… s-several years ago, some excavators came across the m-most extraordinary discovery. Mosquitoes, entombed in hardened amber and nearly p-perfectly intact. Our geneticists discovered a method for extracting the dinosaur blood they fed on, still preserved in th-their bodies.

“Of c-c-course, there were still gaps,” Bill continues, cutting off Eddie before he can ask. Mike can feel him practically vibrating with questions next to him. “Not n-nearly as massive as the gaps in our previous DNA samples, but enough that it needed s-s-supplementing. Our geneticists worked another miracle and filled the gaps with amphibian DNA, and voila. B-baby dinosaurs.” 

“ _Voila_ ,” Eddie repeats. Bill ducks his head a little shyly. 

“Yes, well, of c-course it’s all much more complex than all that, as you know. B-but for the purposes of the educational f-film, that’s the explanation. And once the film wraps up, the tour m-moves on.”

He produces a remote from his pocket and takes a seat next to Mike. With a push of a button, the safety bars in front of them descend, securing them in place as the auditorium itself starts to rotate. 

At first it’s all black, but soon a lab appears—it’s full of scientists and techs, moving around the lab head to toe in white coats and protective equipment. Mike sees a man carrying what looks to be an incubator full of eggs and gasps quietly.

“Our fertilization department,” Bill explains, as they move past. “Geneticists insert the dinosaur DNA into unfertilized emu or ostrich eggs, and then it’s on to the nursery for the wee things, where we wait to welcome dinosaurs back into the world.”

Eddie strains against the safety bars, frustrated as the auditorium keeps moving. “Wait, wait! Can’t we see the unfertilized host eggs?”

“How do you interrupt the cellular mitosis?” Richie asks, following Eddie’s lead and pushing against his own bar.

“We’ll get there shortly,” Bill promises, but Eddie and Richie are both determined, pushing the safety bars back with their feet before standing, free, and hurrying towards the laboratory doors. “It’s meant to be a ride—!”

Sheepishly, Mike stands too, trailing after them. He gives Bill his most charming grin as he says, “C’mon, man, we’re scientists. I think we’ve earned a little curiosity.”

Bowers trails after the four of them anxiously; soon they’re inside the lab itself, weaving through the scientists hard at work around them and trying not to get in their way while still fascinating at everything they come across. Bill tries to lead them, pointing out various equipment and technology, but Mike and Eddie are pretty single mindedly focused on the hatchery they spot in the corner. Bill follows when Eddie makes a beeline for it, Mike close on his heels, and calls a greeting to one of the scientists nearby studying a clipboard. 

“Good afternoon Wu,” Bill says. 

“Ah, good afternoon sir,” Wu answers, smiling as he jots down something on his clipboard and checks his watch. 

“Hope you don’t mind a few visitors,” Bill is saying as Mike approaches the hatchery. “Gentlemen, this is Dr. Henry Wu, our chief geneticist here at Jurassic Park.”

“The more, the merrier,” Wu answers. “Nice to meet you all.”

They mutter greetings back, crowding around the incubator; the floor resembles grass, holding the eggs in a man-made structure that strongly resembles that of a bird's nest. A robotic arm is adjusting the eggs the way a mother would, rotating them so that they receive the optimal amount of heat from the lamp above them. 

“My god,” Mike breathes, watching the robotic arm steady the movements from one of the eggs; it looks as though it’s beginning to hatch. “Eddie, _look_ at that.”

“Perfect timing, it seems,” Bill says. He’s beaming proudly. “No better way to show you what marvels this park offers than to witness a live hatching with your own eyes. Here, Mike, Dr. Kaspbrak, put on some gloves.”

Mike and Eddie take the plastic gloves Bill hands them, watching in silence as Bill reaches down with his own gloved hands and carefully breaks away egg fragments, helping the infant dinosaur out of its shell.

“Come on—come on then, love, you can do it,” Bill coos at it as its face slowly appears. Mike glances at Eddie and sees an awed smile on his face, watching the process in shocked silence. 

“Amazing,” Mike breathes, reaching out to touch it’s head gently as it breaks through the shell.

Eddie reaches out to touch as well, gloved finger running down it’s back. “How long is their gestation?” he asks Wu.

“Depends on the species,” Wu answers, joining them at the edge of the hatchery and watching their veneration with a smile. “This one is roughly three months.” 

“What about brachiosaurus?” Eddie asks. “Or t-rex?”

“Brachiosaurus are our largest species—they hatch around six months. T-rex right behind them at five months.” 

“You know, infants tend to imprint on the first living creature they come in contact with,” Bill explains. Mike grins as the infant begins to cry with a raspy wail, poking the rest of its body free of the shell. Eddie lets out an incredulous laugh next to him, Richie joining in and watching Eddie’s reaction as the baby is finally free from its shell. It’s clear that he is still awestruck by the process, and his voice is soft as he says, “I’ve been present for the birth of every creature on this island.”

Richie breaks away from the group then, having yet to touch the animal himself. Hovering close behind Eddie, Richie asks, “But, uh. Probably not the ones that bred in the wild, right?”

“Actually, they can’t breed in the wild. Population control is one of our security precautions. There’s no unauthorized breeding in Jurassic Park,” Wu informs him.

Richie holds up a hand. “I’m sorry, hold on. How do you know they can’t breed?”

Wu gives Richie an amused smile. Condescending, as though Richie isn’t a renowned scientist in his field, but a petulant child. “Because every animal in the park is female. We’ve engineered them that way.” 

The dinosaur cries out again, stretching it’s limbs awkwardly as it is exposed to the outside world for the first time. It's coated in mucus and various other placental material—Bill gestures at Wu, who hands him a wet cleaning cloth. Bill holds the creature carefully in his hands, rubbing his thumb along its chest and beaming as it coos in response before starting to clean various substances from it.

“Oh my god, Mike, look at that,” Eddie says in astonishment. Richie leaves his spot behind Eddie, circling the table as he observes the process and the cogs turn in his head. Mike feels Eddie shuffle next to him, glancing at Richie as he prowls around.

Bill turns to Mike, then, and gently hands the creature off. Mike holds it carefully, amazed. The creature is a biped, he notes, with tiny legs that even now imply power. Small claws and tiny teeth that will develop into some of nature’s most deadly weapons with age.

“The blood temperature seems like high eighties, maybe?” Mike guesses, not looking up from the infant.

“Mhm, ninety-one,” Wu confirms. 

“Homeothermic? It holds that temperature?” Eddie asks. The geneticist nods in affirmation. “That’s incredible.” 

Eddie holds the egg up, examining it reverently. All of them seem to be struggling to comprehend that they just witnessed the hatching of a live dinosaur. The robotic arm unceremoniously takes the shell out of Eddie’s hands and puts it back with the other eggs. Eddie doesn’t seem phased by it, choosing instead to redirect his focus back to the infant in Mike’s hands.

“Can we go back a bit?” Richie inquires, moving to stand next to Wu. “How do you know they’re all female? Is there uh, someone whose job it is to run around lifting up the dinosaur’s skirts?”

“Jesus Christ, Richie,” Eddie says irritably under his breath. Even so, Mike can see the little smile Eddie tries to hide out of the corner of his eye. 

“We control their chromosomes,” Wu answers, clearly growing weary of Richie’s questioning. Richie strolls around the table again as Wu explains. “It’s really not that difficult. All vertebrate animals are inherently female in utero. They just require an extra hormone given at the right development stage to make them male. We simply deny them that.” 

“You _deny_ them?” Eddie asks, sounding troubled. 

Richie sits down in a chair at Wu’s desk, leaning back and spreading his legs. He seems like the type of man who has a habit of making himself at home wherever he is. Richie glances at Eddie before bringing his sharp gaze back to Bill. 

“Denbrough, the kind of control you’re trying to do here is, uh,” Richie trails off, shaking his head. “It’s not fucking possible. If there’s one thing that the history of evolution has taught us is that life will not be contained, and _certainly_ not by human arrogance. Life breaks free, and expands to new territories and crashes through barriers painfully, maybe even dangerously. But, uh.” He gives a lecherous grin. “Well, fuck… there it is.” 

“There it is,” Bill repeats, irritated. He turns his back to help Mike finish cleaning off the newborn dinosaur, attempting to end the conversation. 

Wu raises a skeptical eyebrow. “So you’re implying a group composed entirely of females will… breed?” 

“No, no, that’s not what I mean at all, man,” Richie answers, crossing his arms. “All I’m trying to say is that life, uh, finds a way.”

The baby in Mike’s hands squeals, drawing Mike’s gaze back down—now that it’s clean, he has a better picture of what he’s looking at. Heart in his throat, he asks Wu, “What species is this?” 

Wu looks up from his clipboard. “Uh, that’s a velociraptor,” he answers calmly. 

Mike’s pulse speeds up; he shares a concerned look with Eddie before addressing Wu again. “You bred raptors?” 

Wu glances up and nods silently, looking to Bill, who Mike can feel watching him carefully. 

“We have three that are full grown, Mike,” Bill tells him, a cautious smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “In an enclosure, just outside. I meant to show them to you later. After the main tour, and lunch—”

“Where is it?” Mike asks, eyes blazing.

Bill hesitates, clearly uncertain about whether or not he should answer.

But Wu, it seems, doesn’t hold the same reservations that Bill does. He takes the infant raptor from Mike’s hands and says, “Out those doors, a quarter mile to the east. There’s a large tower next to it, you can’t miss it.”

“Now, wait,” Bill tries to say, but Mike’s gotten the information he needs. 

He can hear Bill calling after him as he takes off, but for once it doesn’t deter him. He exits the building at a pace that’s barely shy of a run, with Eddie and Richie close on his heels. Bowers is the only hesitant one, trailing behind Bill, who’s struggling to keep up with his cane. But Mike pays none of them any mind. He’s a man on a mission.

Mike slows to a stop when he reaches what must be the velociraptor pen. He’d somehow managed to navigate them to the right place on his own, ignoring Bill’s pleas that there would be plenty of time after they’d all eaten. It’s a heavily fortified cage, with concrete walls encasing the foliage down below. Mike presses right up against the fence, terrified but desperate for a glimpse.

Eddie joins him moments later, taking the spot next to him. Richie sidles up on Eddie’s left—it’s another moment before Bill catches up.

“We really should have lunch first, Mike,” Bill says, out of breath. “Alejandro, our gourmet chef, he’s very good, I believe he’s prepared a wonderful Chilean sea bass for us—”

“What are they doing?” Mike asks, watching in fascinated horror as a crane lowers a harnessed cow down into the pen.

Bill’s voice is slightly apologetic as he answers, “Ah. Feeding them.”

The cow disappears into the foliage, and everyone falls silent. The group waits with bated breath, slightly terrified of what they’re about to witness. Mike refuses to look away from the motionless line.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. They can’t see into the vegetation, and Mike isn’t sure they want to. What comes next is an alarming spectacle, starting with a stilted jolt of the crane line, before a sharp snapping sound rings out and the line is tugged in every direction. Frantic activity as the raptors feed, and the horrifying sound of wet crunches and screams from the raptors that imply the cow is being torn to pieces. It’s better, then, that they can’t see this. That Mike can’t see the animals that enthrall him as strongly as they frighten him displaying their power in the most gruesome way.

The raptors scream again; it’s the only way Mike can describe the sounds they make. The cow continues to bray in terror, and then, as suddenly as it began, falls silent as the raptors finish their kill. Eddie looks away, ducking his head into Richie’s chest, looking sick from the spectacle. Richie’s arm comes around his shoulders unconsciously, eyes fixed on the shuddering tree line. The pen grows quiet again, and the crane raises the harness again—empty, shredded and bloody.

“My god,” Richie says. He’s lowered his arm, resting a reassuring hand on Eddie’s back. Mike’s not certain either of them are aware of the way they sought comfort from each other.

“I want to see them,” Mike breathes. He drops his gaze back to the cage, eyes straining for a better look. “Is there any way for us to get closer?”

Eddie pulls away from Richie, looking at Mike in shock and reaching out to grip his bicep. Sharply, he says, “Mike, no. We aren’t just dealing with bones anymore. You know more than anyone how dangerous they are.”

“This is as close as we can get, unfortunately,” Bill confirms. Mike turns to face him again. Behind Bill, Bowers looks like he’s going to be sick. “We’re still, ah. Trying to perfect a viewing system for the raptors. They seem to be a bit resistant to containment.”

“And who could have predicted that?” calls a voice, loud and cutting. 

A redheaded woman climbs up the stairs to meet them at the top of the viewing area, dressed in a khaki jumper and heavy boots. She takes her hat off as she reaches them, regarding the raptor pen with a grim look. “Oh, that’s right. Your expert animal behaviorists did, but Dr. Hanscom’s advice wasn’t what you wanted to hear. Was it, sir?”

It’s not a question. Bill smiles uncomfortably and gestures to her with his cane. 

“Ah, gentlemen, I’d like you to meet our game warden,” Bill says. “Beverly Marsh. Bit of an alarmist, unfortunately, but she has years of experience working with dangerous carnivores. She knows more about these raptors than anyone else. We’re very lucky to have her on our team.”

Marsh rolls her eyes. She has a thick Australian accent, and an air about her that demands that people listen. “Buttering me up won’t change my opinion on these monsters, Bill.”

Bill shrugs. “Nae, but I’m hoping the opinions of my scientists might convince you to give them a second chance.”

Mike steps forward, extending a hand to Marsh. She’s got a firm handshake, strong. Intimidating. Likely one she perfected early in her career to convince people she was the real deal. Mike knows a thing or two about that. “Dr. Michael Hanlon. Tell me, what sort of metabolism do they have? What’s their rate of growth?”

“This lot is in adolescence now, just over a year old,” Marsh tells him. She leans back against the fence, full of a kind the confidence that one can only be born with. “They’re lethal around eight months, and I do mean lethal. I’ve studied most things that can hunt you, but. The way these things move…”

“Fast, for a biped?” Mike asks, more intrigued than he probably should be. He can feel Eddie’s concerned eyes on him.

Marsh nods. “Cheetah speed. Fifty, even sixty miles per hour if they ever get out in the open. Astonishing jumpers, too. Denbrough keeps saying they’ll take extreme precautions, some sort of tempered glass. I’m worried it won’t be enough.”

“See what I mean? Alarmist,” Bill murmurs.

But Mike’s on a roll now. He leans in, asking, “Do they show intelligence? With a brain cavity like theirs, we assumed—”

“Extreme intelligence,” Marsh says. There’s tightness in her posture now. She’s apprehensive; based on his own knowledge and her experience, Mike’s sure she’s got good reason to be. “They even display problem solving intelligence. Especially the Big One. You know, the park bred eight originally. But she came in and took over the pride, killed all of her sisters but two. When she looks at you, you can tell she’s working things out. She’s the reason we feed them the way we do. Had the other two attacking the fences as the feeders came by.”

Eddie leans forward, eyes wide. “But the fences are electrified, right?” Richie’s hand appears on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Yes, of course,” Marsh answers. She gives him a stony grin. “But she’s clever. She never has them attack the same place twice. They’re testing the fences for weaknesses systematically. They remember.”

  
It’s foreboding, the way her mouth curves into a grim smile. It settles over all of them, heavy on their shoulders. Mike and Eddie share a troubled look, but don’t say a word.

Bill claps his hands together uncertainly. “Well,” he says with a forced laugh. “Shall we eat?”

* * *

It’s quiet around the table, everyone silently preoccupied as lunch is served around them. The room is dim, various projectors the only source of light. Eddie fidgets in his seat and watches the screens around them, filtering through images of dinosaurs and prehistoric animals—both old sketches and paintings and, incredibly, more recent pictures of the real thing.

Richie is across the table from him next to Bowers, Mike seated to Eddie’s right. Bill sits at the head of the table next to Mike. A server places a plate down in front of Eddie—it is, indeed, Chilean sea bass, as Bill had promised. Eddie wrinkles his nose in distaste; even if he ate meat, there isn’t a lump sum of money high enough to convince him to touch fish.

“Excuse me?” Eddie asks the server in a low voice. It doesn’t matter how quiet he tries to be; Richie’s eyes are on him anyway. “I’m a vegetarian, is there any chance you have another option?”

“Dr. Kaspbrak, I’m so sorry,” Bill says across the table, sounding embarrassed. Eddie winces; he’d wanted to avoid making it into a big deal. “I didn’t realize, I should have thought to check, we can have the chef prepare you something new—”

“Really, it’s fine,” Eddie insists, waving off the server waiting awkwardly. His cheeks are burning as he realizes all eyes are on him. “I’ll be fine.” 

But Bill’s insistent, telling the server, “Please see what Alejandro can scrounge up for Dr. Kaspbrak. Something quick, if he has the means.”

Quietly grateful but still embarrassed, Eddie shoots Bill a timid smile before shrinking in his seat. Richie is endlessly amused, grinning at Eddie across the table like Eddie’s just handed him the greatest day of his life. Sharply, Eddie says, “What now?”

“Vegetarian botanist?” Richie teases, taking a pointed bite of his fish. “Ethically speaking, wouldn’t you say that’s as bad as, like, cannibalism?” 

“What the fuck do you mean?” Eddie demands, before remembering who he is in the company of and cringing. “Sorry, Mr. Denbrough.”

“It’s just Bill,” he corrects warmly, and he gestures for Eddie to continue. “And don’t hold back on my account. By all means, call Dr. Tozier a fucking moron if you want. I certainly won’t stop you. I may even applaud you.”

Mike laughs awkwardly as he cuts up his meal with his fork and knife. 

“I mean, that’s the problem with us meat-eaters, right?” Richie continues, taking another bite and leaning back in his chair. He considers Eddie as he chews. “Who's to say that cannibalism only applies within our specific genus and species? Couldn’t we say that we’re _basically_ eating our own brothers and sisters in the animal kingdom? So, theoretically, someone who dedicated their life to studying plants, eating _only_ plants… just a little weird, Eds.” 

“You have a _doctorate,_ Richie,” Eddie says, pained. 

“And how do you think I got it? Out of the box thinking like this. Let’s say you are what you eat. Common phrase, right? So if you only eat plants, and your job is to study plants, what exactly about this scenario makes you different from a cannibal?”

As Eddie’s rearing up to launch into his own rant, Mike holds out a hand to Eddie’s chest, cutting him off effectively. “Alright, this could go on for a while, so let’s just. Stop before we get there, yeah?”

Eddie sits back, glaring at Richie’s grinning face and nods. Mike squeezes his bicep again; Richie watches the movement closely before dropping his eyes back to his food.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll dive back in,” Bill says, clapping his hands together. “You’re all about to go on the very first tour, the exact route we’re planning for future tourists. We plan on having other attractions, rides and so forth, for the kids. Hell, for the adults, too, but they’re not quite ready yet. They really are spectacular, no expenses spared.”

“We can charge anything,” Bowers interrupts, speaking up for the first time in hours. There’s a money-hungry gleam in his eyes, dollar signs practically replacing his pupils. “Five thousand a day, ten thousand a day, and people will pay it! Then, of course, there’s the merchandise to consider—”

  
“Bowers, no, no,” Bill cuts him off, looking almost affronted at the suggestion. Eddie finds this a little ironic, all things considered. “Jurassic Park is not meant only for the super rich. I intend for this place to be available to anyone in the world, economic status notwithstanding.” 

“Right, sure. We’ll have a coupon day, or something,” Bowers says with a slimy smile, looking around the table for support. He finds none.

Richie scrapes the prongs of his fork against his place. He looks uncharacteristically serious as he chimes in, “So, you want our opinions, right? That’s why we’re here?”

“I do indeed. What’s on your mind, Dr. Tozier?” Bill asks. 

He lets out a humorless laugh. “Well, I guess I’ve got to say that the, uh. The lack of humility before nature that’s on display here, it’s… alarming.”

There’s a new plate being placed in front of Eddie, but it’s irrelevant. Eddie sits up straight and leans forward on his elbows. He knows what Richie’s posture means. He knows what this tone precedes. Belatedly, Eddie realizes everyone else has stopped eating as well.

“Eloquently put, Rick, but things are actually much different than you and I feared,” Bowers says haughtily. He regards Richie with a snide look.

“Fucking right they are, they’re—well, they’re much worse,” Richie answers. He laughs again, but there’s nothing in his tone that suggests he finds this funny. Eddie’s throat feels dry.

“We haven't even seen the park yet, how could you possibly—” Bowers begins.

“I don’t _need_ to see the park to see the problems here, Bowers.”

And _there_ it is. The ferocity that renders the group deathly silent. Richie commands a room no matter where he is or what he’s doing, but it’s different like this. There’s a fight in his eyes that the people in this room who don’t know him wouldn’t know to expect; a radiating power that draws every gaze in the room to him and makes them listen. 

“Let him speak,” Bill says, gesturing for Richie to continue. “This is why I brought you all here. I want to view this from as many angles as possible. By all means.”

Richie’s sharp gaze snaps to Bill. “You don’t understand, do you, Denbrough?” Richie continues. There’s a pinch between Bill’s brows but he remains silent. “Genetic power is the most impressive force this planet’s ever seen, and you’re just. You’re out here wielding it like a kid that found his dad’s gun.”

Bowers scoffs. “That’s a massive generalization—”

“Perhaps, but if I may,” Richie says, speaking over Bowers. He keeps his eyes on Bill. “I’ll tell you the real problem here, Bill. This scientific power you’re using here—it didn’t require any discipline for you to attain it. You just. You read what others had done, and then _you_ took the next step without them. You didn’t earn this knowledge for yourself, therefore you don’t take any responsibility for it. You stood on the shoulders of giants to accomplish something as fast as possible. And then you fucking. You patented it, before you even realized the enormity of what you had, you turned it into a logo on a lunchbox and now—” Richie smacks his palm flat against the table to emphasize his point, rattling the silverware, “—you’re selling it, you want to _sell_ it. Well. I don’t think I can emphasize enough how _monumentally_ fucking dangerous that is.” 

A hush falls over the table while Bill considers his point. Eddie drops his gaze down to his plate, trying to hide his grin. Like moths to a flame, Richie’s fire is hard to ignore once it’s in inferno, and today he burns bright enough to captivate the entire island.

“I don’t think you’re giving us our due credit,” Bill says calmly. “Our scientists have done things no one else has _ever_ done before.”

Richie contemplates this, swishing his drink around in his cup before taking a swig and dropping the glass back down on the table with a heavy thunk. He concedes, “Yeah, I’ll give you that. But I think it’s also worth pointing out that your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, that they didn’t stop to think if they _should_.”

“Condors,” Bill shoots back. 

“That’s not the same,” Richie starts, shaking his head, but Bill pushes through, talking over him. 

“Condors are on the verge of extinction. If I were to create a flock of condors on this island, you wouldn’t have an argument here, would you?”

Richie lets out a skeptic laugh. “No, I wouldn’t, because your _biological attractions,_ as you call them, were not wiped out due to deforestation, or an oil spill, or because some trigger-happy hillbilly got set loose in the woods somewhere. Dinosaurs _had_ their fucking shot, and nature _selected_ them for extinction.”

Bill sits back, shaking his head incredulously. “I simply don’t understand this attitude, not from a scientist. Especially not one with your background, Dr. Tozier.” 

"I think Richie has a point," Eddie interrupts, nodding at Richie before addressing Bill. "For example, you have plants in this building that are poisonous. You like them because they look good, but these are living creatures. They'll defend themselves however they need to. Violently, if that’s what it comes to."

"I'm afraid I don't see how that proves Dr. Tozier's point," Bill says.

"What I mean is, these animals, these plants—they have no idea what century they're in. You can't know anything about an extinct ecosystem, and therefore how could you possibly hope to control it?"

"Control is a strong word," Bill says.

"What else would you call it? Dr. Wu said it himself—you’re controlling their chromosomes, their environment. You’re feeding them with cows on cranes rather than letting them hunt. You’re attempting to control an entire population of animals that no one has ever studied in the wild, basing your methods on data that is millions of years old, and quite frankly, obsolete in the presence of the real thing," Eddie explains with a huff. “He’s right. I don’t doubt that your scientists followed the scientific method to a tee, and I’m extremely cognizant of the ingenuity and intelligence that was required to accomplish what you have, but you created these animals for human exploitation, not for their own autonomy. You bred them for captivity before ever attempting to understand their nature, and therefore how could you ever possibly hope to know what you’re dealing with?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Richie’s gaze on him. Looking at him in a way that used to make him feel like he could conquer the world. The kind of gaze that Eddie never felt like he’d earned, coming from Richie. He shivers and looks away.

"I would call it discovery," Bill says, answering his initial question.

Perhaps the most alarming thing is, Bill seems sincere—Eddie doesn't feel any malicious intent from him. In fact, he’s certain that Bill genuinely believes he’s given the world something good and is trying to keep everyone’s best interests and safety in mind as he goes forward with his plans. However, Eddie has dedicated his life to this field of study. He cannot deny that Richie has made some astute observations about the dangers of the park. 

"Dr. Hanlon," Bill redirects, using Mike's last name for the first time since they arrived. "You're my last hope. Surely, if anyone will understand what I'm trying to do here, it's you."

Mike smiles down at his plate, shaking his head. "I'm sorry Bill. What you've done… it's incredible, and it's _beautiful._ I can't deny that. But dinosaurs and man—two species separated by sixty-five million years of evolution… You set the clock forward so far, and we're running to catch up. I don't want to jump to conclusions, or disrespect the work you put into this place, Bill, but how can we possibly know what to expect now that we share this earth with them so suddenly?"

Bill shakes his head. "I don't believe it. A room full of scientists, and the only one on my side is the blood-sucking lawyer."

Bowers looks a little dumbfounded. "Yeah. Thank you."

Mike looks on the verge of saying more, but they're interrupted. The server from before comes in; Eddie still hasn't touched his food, nor has anyone else at the table. They whisper something into Bill's ear, and his face breaks out in a smile.

“Ah. They're here," he says happily. "Time to begin the tour."

They're led back into the main atrium of the visitor's center. Descending the stairs, Bill tells them, "Hope you don't mind—you're going to have a wee bit of company out in the park."

"Papa!"

Two children race up the stairs, practically tackling Bill to the ground with the force of their hugs.

"Bairns!" Bill cries, wrapping them in his arms.

The younger boy giggles—he has dark hair like Bill, dressed like a walking advertisement for a safari, complete with a bandana around his neck like Mike's. The girl is a little older, with auburn hair and Bill's bright blue eyes, smiling when Bill kisses her cheek.

"Did your mother throw a fit when she dropped you off?" Bill asks them.

"No more than usual," the girl answers, shrugging. "She wants you to call her. Told me to tell you that mobile phones were invented for a reason."

"Right, well,” Bill says with a laugh, turning to show them off to their group huddled on the stairs. "Everyone, these are my children. Grace and George."

“ _Georgie,_ ” the younger one corrects. Bill ruffles his hair.

"Wow. Georgie is the spitting image of his namesake, Bill," Mike says with a smile.

"He doesn't let me forget it either," Bill sighs, rolling his eyes. "Last Christmas, we had no less than eight of our own family members ask if he was Georgie's son."

Richie and Eddie smile and nod politely at the children; Eddie's a bit surprised at Richie's reserve. He's usually great with kids, but at the moment he seems distracted. Mike, surprisingly, looks uncomfortable as well, keeping close to the railing and not engaging as he normally does when kids are around.

"Well, let's get going then, while there's still plenty of daylight," Bill says, leaning heavily on his cane to stand again. Grace takes his free hand, chattering excitedly as they descend the stairs. Georgie bounds down them with an excitement one can only have from being a child set loose in a park.

Bill walks them outside where several jeeps are waiting for them. They appear to run on a track in the middle of the road, and Eddie is surprised to see there are no drivers.

"They’re automated?" he asks Bill.

"Yes, no drivers needed. Only the latest and greatest," he answers with a wink.

Bowers lets himself into the first jeep. Eddie, out of nothing more than a strong discontent for Bowers, gravitates towards the second. He’s unsurprised when Richie follows closely behind him. Eddie takes the passenger seat again, and Richie climbs into the seat behind him. 

Bill whispers something to his kids, nodding towards Mike. Grace approaches Mike, a little shyly, and says, "Da said I should ride with you, ‘cause it would be good for you."

"Ha," Mike lets out, shooting a look at Bill. "Well, I think our car is full, but maybe later—" 

"I read your book," Georgie interrupts, appearing at Mike's elbow.

"Oh, well. That's great," Mike says awkwardly. Eddie watches eagerly, grinning when Mike tries to surreptitiously slide into the jeep with Richie and Eddie.

Georgie is undeterred. "Do you really think dinosaurs turned into birds? Because my teacher says it was actually this meteor, and—"

"Listen, uh, Georgie," Mike says, now fully seated in the car and leaning out of the door to address Georgie, who is holding the door open to talk to him. "I think we're about to leave, so maybe you should—"

"Come on, Georgie," Grace interrupts, grabbing her brother by the arm. She drags him away to the first jeep.

"Smooth, Mike," Eddie says, when Mike relaxes back against the seat and closes the door behind him.

Mike’s gaze snaps to him. Defensively, he asks, "What?"

"Was that your first time talking to a kid, or something?" Richie asks. "I mean it was fine, technically, but you looked like your nipples were being twisted off your body."

"I did not," Mike snaps, but Eddie snorts and nods.

"You kinda did, dude," Eddie agrees.

"It's—it's not kids I have a problem with! It's just. Complicated." 

"Alright," Eddie says, shrugging and lifting his hands. "I won't pry, whatever you say."

"Can we just go?" Mike asks, speaking to the ceiling of the jeep now.

As if summoned, a screen in the front seat flickers to life. Bill's face appears on it, beaming.

"What do you think? Interactive tour guide, just touch the screen to direct yourself to whatever you want to see. Spared no expense."

As quickly as he’d appeared on the screen, Bill’s gone again, leaving a green screen with several options to choose from. Eddie taps 'directory' and is brought to a massive menu screen.

"Impressive," he says under his breath.

Once everyone is seated and buckled in, the jeeps start to move, tumbling down the track in the road. A voice starts speaking from the console in the middle, describing how to use the interactive features, but none of them pay it any mind. They can barely hear it over their own excited chatter, pressing their noses to the glass to get a better glimpse of the park as the tour begins.

* * *

From another area of the compound, Beverly Marsh joins Bill in the control room, pushing into the dim gray room with a bundle of papers in her hands. 

  
“The National Weather Service is reporting a tropical storm headed this way,” she tells Bill. 

“Pure radge. Why didn’t I build in Orlando?” Bill mutters to himself.

They step inside and walk down the stairs together, joining their chief engineer Patricia Blum at her console. Patty, as she insists on being called, is a no-nonsense kind of woman—an attitude she picked up early in her education as the only black woman in her engineering cohort—easy to tell by the way she holds herself. She sits at her desk, comfortably in her element with her jacket on the back of her seat and a cigarette dangling from her lips. She pays no mind to Bill and Beverly behind her as she pulls up the satellite image of the storm. 

“I’ll keep an eye on it,” Beverly says, taking a seat next to Patty. She stretches out, resting her booted feet on Patty’s desk and giving Patty an amused grin when Patty turns to glance at her. “It may swing south, like the last one.”

Patty doesn’t answer, caught up in her work and the screen in front of her. She picks an elastic up off her desk and reaches up, tying back most of her unruly curls. She takes a long drag of the cigarette and blows the smoke towards Beverly, who wordlessly waves it out of her face. 

“Patty, start the tour program, please,” Bill says, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“You got it, boss,” Patty says.

Beverly pokes Patty’s side with her toe, teasing, and Patty turns to wink at her briefly before focusing back on her computer and pulling up the right program. Not even Beverly Marsh could distract her from doing her job. She hovers over the Enter key in a dramatic fashion. 

“Alright. Hold onto your butts.” 

The room waits with bated breath as Patty hits Enter.

On another part of the island, the jeeps take off into the jungle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find us here: [playedwright](https://twitter.com/SPACERICHlE), [hyruling](https://twitter.com/edskaspbraking), [sabisun](https://twitter.com/sabisuns), where all of us are regularly active with other reddie content but also probably discussing our brain worms for this au in great detail :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter include, mentioned/vaguely described animal death, descriptions of blood and injuries, minor character death and minor violence in the scene, and characters smoking. this is typical of the movie, but still please proceed with caution as needed.
> 
> thank you guys for your patience as we pushed this chapter out! we've had to adapt our plan a little bit as we realized our original goal of 4 chapters wasn't going to be enough LMAO. this chapter is a doozy though, totaling at over 10k. we hope you enjoy!

In his time being employed by him, Rob Gray has learned that Bill Denbrough is a man that has proven to be many things. There's no doubt that Denbrough is wealthy—that much is evident given their surroundings and the nice watch on his wrist and the clean lines of the new outfit he wore to impress their important visitors today. It’s the kind of wealth that is the result of hard work and dedication, and a little schmoozing with the right people. No one has ever questioned his intelligence or charm. Denbrough has also proven himself to be a visionary; the man sees the world not as it is, but as what it could be. He sees potential everywhere, and his eye for talent has led to the feats of scientific discovery roaming the island outside. 

Most importantly to Rob Gray, of course, is that Denbrough has proven himself to be an unfair employer. Unfathomably rich himself yet unwilling to divulge a little padding onto his employee’s salaries. To be frank, Rob is underpaid here. Hell, he thinks they all might be, but no one dares talk to him on a good day about the weather, let alone about how much money they make.

Rob lights a cigarette at his desk and watches, silent, as Denbrough monitors his children through the cameras in the jeeps. He’s far too excitable—childish in ways that almost certainly make him a terrible father. Rob wonders if Denbrough lies awake with his guilt at night, thinking savagely that he ought to _,_ the asshole.

“Headlights aren’t responding. Item two-hundred and five on today’s glitch list,” Blum says, jotting it on a notepad. Her multi-colored hair is pulled in a loose bun today, and her standard issue jumpsuit uniform is riddled with pins of varying colors and phrases that Rob has long since given up trying to understand. “We have all the major issues of a major theme park _and_ a major zoo, and this is just the test run.”

Denbrough stiffens. “Gray. Our lives are in your hands, and you’re lighting up and watching game shows,” Denbrough says irritably. It’s the first time he’s so much as glanced at Rob’s desk since entering.

“Billy, Billy, Billy,” Rob drawls, turning his chair from side to side. He doesn’t take the cigarette out of his mouth, but curls his lips into a malicious smile that’s certain to make Denbrough’s skin crawl. “Sweet little Patty can blow through two packs a day without any problem, but I light up one measly little cigarette and the entire park’s going to shit. Either I’m the most important employee in this place, or the cigarettes must not be the only thing she’s blowing.”

Blum doesn’t even so much as glance at him. “Sweet little Patty’s gonna shove her cigarettes up your ass if you ever call her sweet again,” she chirps at him. It’s more a promise than a threat.

“Ohoho,” he laughs, delighted at her fierceness. “Look who’s come out to play today.”

Denbrough’s cheeks are red when Rob finally turns to look at him again. “Best if you watch your mouth, Gray,” Denbrough warns him.

“Or what?” Gray asks gleefully. “You’ll _fire_ me? The good news there, Billy, is that this whole park can be run from this room. _With_ minimal staff, for up to three days! Bad news? This type of automation isn’t easy. Or cheap, but you certainly know that, don’t you? Spared no expense, so you say, except on your employees.”

“Shove it, Gray,” Marsh snaps. She drops her feet off of Blum’s desk, eyes nearly as fiery as her hair. Rob does enjoy it when she gets riled up.

Today, though, he shrugs. He sits back in his chair and glances at the aerosol can of shaving cream—his ticket to freedom. He gives the room at large an oily grin, one that makes most of them turn away from him. “All I’m saying, _boss,_ is that there’s no one else who can network eight connection machines and debug two million lines of code at the rate I do.”

“The headlights on the jeeps are out,” Denbrough reiterates, instead of taking the bait that Rob dangles in front of him. 

Rob turns back to his desk. Of course, he’s already aware that the headlights are out. Blum already said it and, of course, he’d planted that bug a few hours ago. Before the visitors even arrived. He doesn’t let Denbrough see him smile. “I’ll debug the tour program shortly. It’ll shut down parts of the system, so you may want to prepare your little visitors for that.”

“Don’t—” Denbrough starts, but he seems to remember his place before he can let his temper take over. “Just. Fix the headlights as soon as you can.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Rob can see Denbrough turn back to the screens. Back to watching his children and his silly little friends play around in his park. He thinks he’s done something wonderful. He thinks he’s showing them something amazing, some monumental achievement for mankind. Petulant man. His hubris will be his downfall. When Rob shuts down the system and escapes with the embryos, Denbrough’s friends and family will still be out there in that jungle. With no electrified fences to keep them protected. And what will Denbrough do from his tower, then? Look away and bury the lawsuit as he buries his family members, hiding behind more lawyers and scientists who come to endorse his park? It wouldn’t matter even if he did. Rob’s taking the science with him, to someone willing to compensate him fairly for sharing the wealth in the form of knowledge. This will ruin Denbrough the way he deserves, after underestimating and undervaluing his employees.

Rob grins at his computer screen again, ready and waiting to destroy the fail safes that allow Denbrough to sleep soundly at night with just the click of a one button. He waits.

* * *

Eddie keeps his eyes trained forward as the cars descend into the jungle. He’s hyper-aware of Richie behind him, of the way he laughs and breathes, taking up more space than he physically embodies simply by the confident way that he carries himself. Somehow, the idea of touching a dinosaur feels more tangible for Eddie than the thought of feeling Richie like this again.

Mike’s quiet too. Pensive. The kind of isolated contemplative way he gets when he has high expectations but doesn’t want anyone to know. Eddie hopes he won’t be let down. He’s not sure what they’re in for as the jeeps carry them further into the jungle, but it thrills him as much as it scares him. The arguments Richie raised during lunch are still fresh in his mind.

The jeeps approach two enormous doors that open automatically as they grow closer. The doors are wooden, heavy, and flanked by torches that blaze on either side. The sign above the doors reads _Jurassic Park_.

  
“What do you suppose they keep in there?” Richie murmurs. Eddie barely glances back at him. “King Kong?”

Next to him, Mike lets out a small chuckle.

Through the speakers, a voice begins to narrate, _“Welcome to Jurassic Park. You have entered the lost world of the prehistoric past.”_

Eddie continues to watch out the window. There are fences on either side of them, retaining walls that are covered with greenery. He documents as many plants as he can—extinct forms of life he still can’t believe that he gets to see with his own eyes. Trepidation and excitement fight for dominance in his chest, heart racing as the enormous doors close behind them. 

  
The cars begin to slow. The speaker says, _“If you look to your right, you will see a herd of the first dinosaurs on our tour, the Dilophosaurus.”_

“Fuck,” Mike breathes, and he shifts in his seat to press himself closer against the window. Richie crowds behind him, just as desperate for a look. Eddie slides across the bench into the driver’s seat. He can’t see anything except for the foliage.

_“One of the earliest carnivores, the Dilophosaurus defends itself with poisonous venom that blinds and eventually paralyzes its prey, allowing the carnivore to eat at its leisure. This makes the Dilophosaurus a beautiful yet deadly addition to Jurassic Park.”_

“Mike, can you see—?” Eddie asks, hoping that perhaps Mike can point them out.

But Mike just sits back, disappointed. He and Richie share a skeptical look. “No,” Mike answers. He glances out the window again. “Damn.”

Automatically, the cars continue on. Eddie sits back and sighs. He won’t allow his expectations to get as high as Mike’s undoubtedly are, but after the amazing experience with the brachiosauruses he has to admit that there’s a part of him that’s disappointed they weren’t able to see anything.

Eddie goes back to silently documenting plants as they drive by, jotting them down on a notepad he brought with him. Aristolochia gigantea. Elegia capensis. Metasequoia glyptostroboides. He mutters the names under his breath and marvels. Behind him, Richie chuckles to himself and whispers, “Showoff.”

“You’re just jealous,” Eddie whispers back. He can see Richie smiling out of the corner of his eye. Watching Eddie as Eddie watches the plants. “Bet you would have loved botany.”

Richie shrugs. “Why, so I could learn how to, what, grow potatoes in a barren wasteland? Nah, I chose a useful degree.”

It’s almost too easy to fall back into old habits. Eddie’s trying hard not to grin as he says, “Yeah, because fancy math opens _so_ many doors for you. Is that why you wrote a book? To prove that your degree wasn’t a waste?”

“Oh, baby, that was just to get your attention,” Richie teases. He reaches forward and tugs on a strand of Eddie’s hair, the humidity having long since released it from the confines of gel.

“Shhh,” Mike tells them. He sits up straight in his seat as the cars drive along a high ridge and slow to a stop, right in front of a large, ominous fence. There’s open terrain on the other side, as far as the eye can see, and no dinosaurs in sight.

_“The mighty tyrannosaurus rose to its prominence during the Cretaceous Period, later than most in dinosaur history. It wasn’t until the last—”_

“Can you turn that off?” Mike asks. “We know this already.”

Eddie reaches forward and flips the switch for the radio before returning his focus back to the fence. Richie’s the only one in the car who isn’t looking out the window.

Richie murmurs, “God creates dinosaurs. God destroys dinosaurs. God creates man. Man destroys God. Man creates dinosaurs—”

“Dinosaurs eat man,” Eddie offers, beating Richie to the joke.

Over the communications, Beverly Marsh’s amused voice rings out, “Woman inherits the Earth.”

“Thank you, Marsh,” they hear Denbrough say. Mike smiles. “We’ll try to tempt the rex. Sit tight.”

Richie raises an eyebrow. “Where the fuck does he expect us to go?”

There’s a low humming sound outside, on the other side of the fence. The trio watches as a small cage rises into view on the t-rex’s side. In it resides one goat, chained up and confined until the bars around it lower back underground. Eddie looks away.

“Not this again,” he murmurs.

Mike’s shaking his head. “T-rex doesn’t want to be _fed_. They won’t tempt her, not like this. She wants to hunt. They can try to control chromosomes, they can limit breeding, they can decide which species to recreate and which ones not to, but. You can’t suppress sixty-five million years of gut instinct.”

“She won’t come,” Richie agrees, sitting back with a sigh. He raises his hands. “Tyrannosaurs won’t obey set patterns or park schedules. This, see, is the essence of Chaos.”

Eddie turns in his seat to face Richie. It doesn’t hurt quite as bad, to face him now. To look at him straight on like this. It hurts a little less each time. If Eddie were a foolish man, he’d even believe that the hurt is being replaced with the realization that Eddie has simply _missed_ him.

“I still don’t understand Chaos. What makes it a seperate science and not just a mathematical concept?” Eddie asks. 

If Richie’s surprised by Eddie’s olive branch, he doesn’t show it. He just shifts forward in his seat, eyes bright and excited as he begins to explain. “It’s just unpredictability in complex systems, right? The short version is the Butterfly Effect. Our actions lead to greater actions. A pebble is dropped into a pond and a wave crashes against the shore in Hawaii. A butterfly flaps its wings in Peking and Central Park gets rain instead of sunshine.”

Frustrated, Eddie presses, “But _how?_ ”

“Am I going too fast for you, Shortstack?” Richie asks, the same exact intonation as when he’d asked him that over ten years ago in the back of freshman biolab. There’s the same stupid, charming grin on his face, so reminiscent of a younger Richie that Eddie shudders at the sense of deja vu. “Let’s try something else. Gimme that glass of water. Now hold up your hand. Fold it, like—like that, yeah. Now. If I drop a little bit of water on your knuckle, which way will the drop roll?”

Eddie just looks at him, hand poised, expectant.

“Come on, Dr. Kaspbrak, you’re a scientist,” Richie prods. “Make a hypothesis.”

“Okay. Off the back,” Eddie predicts. He traces the path he thinks the drop will follow with the fingertip of his free hand.

Richie nods to himself. With one hand, he reaches forward and cups Eddie’s fingers, holding them steady. Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. It’s almost like he remembers—Richie’s hands were always cold. They’re the same now, just more calloused, more lines showing he’s aged. He swallows thickly and forces himself to raise his gaze. Richie flicks the fingers of his free hand, and a drop of water rolls down Eddie’s knuckle the way he’d guessed.

“Very nice, very nice,” Richie says. He doesn’t move his hand except to run his finger along the back to dry the water; Eddie doesn’t move either. He’ll take this small comfort, if that’s all he gets. “Now freeze your hand. I’m gonna do the same exact thing again, dropping it from the same place. Which way will the drop roll?”

Eddie contemplates for a moment, wondering if it’s a trick. He supposes it won’t matter either way. “The same,” he guesses finally. Richie nods, and with his free hand flicks another drop from the same place as before. This one rolls down Eddie’s fingers until it drips from the pad of his ring finger.

“Ah, it changed,” Richie points out. “Why? Because of tiny variations on your hand, the orientation of the hairs, the amount of blood distending in your vessels, imperfections of the skin. The way I flicked the drop. Microscopic changes that never repeat in the exact same sequence, but vastly affect the outcome. That’s, what?”

“Unpredictability,” Eddie answers, nodding slowly. “We can’t assume that we know what’s going to happen.”

“Exactly,” Richie says, and at that exact moment, Mike throws his car door open and jumps out onto the road. “Wow, see? I’m right again.”

Eddie straightens up, pulling his hand away from Richie. “Mike?”

“No one could have predicted that Mike would do that,” Richie muses. Eddie’s only vaguely aware of Richie talking as he pushes his own door open and jumps out, trailing behind Mike. “Another example! Really driving my point home here, Eds!”

“Mike!” Eddie calls, stumbling after him. “Did you see something?”

Mike doesn’t respond, too focused on moving forward through the tall grass towards a small cluster of trees. He’s likely not even aware Eddie followed him. It takes Eddie a moment to realize that the rest of their party has gotten out of their cars, too, and is slowly following behind them.

“Anyone else think we shouldn’t be out here?” Bowers asks sharply. No one pays him any mind.

Little Georgie bolts past Eddie, moving faster than his short legs should be able to carry him. He calls after Mike excitedly, babbling, “Right, so like I was saying, my teacher says that a meteor is what killed the dinosaurs. She says there’s a crater down in Mexico that _proves_ it was a meteor—”

Eddie shares a grin with Richie as Georgie continues to rant at Mike, who looks more and more like he’s about to start arguing with a ten year old with each passing moment. Grace sidles up on Mike’s other side and trips; Mike catches her by the arm and pulls her up. 

Concerned, he asks, “You alright?”

“Great,” Grace chirps, and she slides her hand into Mike’s and smiles as he tries unsuccessfully to pull it away. But she doesn’t get long to bask in her triumph; a few steps later Mike stops them all, raising his free hand to signal they stop. 

“Whoa, hang on guys,” Mike says, and Grace must infer something from the tone of his voice because she drops his hand when he tries to pull away again. “Wait here.” 

Mike continues on alone, pushing into the foliage.

Georgie waits, watching him for all of three seconds, before barreling after him. 

“Georgie!” Eddie hisses, trying to pull him back, but he’s already gone. He glances at Richie, and they reach a silent agreement to follow Mike. Richie goes first, reaching down to take Grace’s free hand and walk forward with her. The sight of it makes Eddie’s breath catch stupidly—he grits his teeth and looks away, focusing on not tripping on the overgrowth.

Eddie follows close behind Richie and Grace, Bowers stumbling along somewhere behind him. He struggles to keep an eye on Georgie too as he hurries after Mike, who has disappeared through a wall of tall grass. They all follow without a moment of hesitation, except for Bowers, who continues to protest on deaf ears. Eddie pushes the grass aside until he catches up with the others, stumbling to a halt when he sees what they’re all crowded around. 

They’re huddled in a clearing that would be otherwise unnoteworthy, were it not for the dinosaur laying on her side, breathing heavily.

“My god,” Eddie breathes, stunned. “Is that—?”

“Triceratops,” Mike whispers. He stands near her back, next to a woman in a Jurassic Park employee uniform. Mesmerized, he takes half a step forward, before asking the woman, “Harding, is it alright if—?”

“Of course,” she tells him. “Get as close as you’d like. She’s been tranquilized, poor thing.”

Eddie staggers forward himself, awestruck. He kneels down and tentatively reaches out, stroking the animal’s head. She makes a small grunting noise but otherwise doesn’t move. “Hi, baby girl,” Eddie chokes out, strangled around the sob. Her skin is rough under his hand. “Hi. It’s okay.”

“This is,” Mike starts. He kneels down next to Eddie with tears in his eyes. “She’s so beautiful. This is the most beautiful thing I ever saw.”

“Triceratops were my favorite,” Eddie says. He reaches up and touches the horn on her nose. “When I was a kid. I loved them. Look at her, I—Richie, come look, see? Look at how beautiful she is.”

He can feel Richie shuffle up behind him. “What’s that on her tongue?” Richie asks, pointing. Eddie turns his gaze towards her mouth. Her tongue droops limply, blistered. Eddie touches it lightly.

“Micro vesicles,” he realizes. She groans when he scraps a little harder, examining. “Shh, I know, I’m sorry.”

Harding’s uniform has _Park Veterinarian_ embroidered on the chest. Eddie asks her, “What are her symptoms?”

“Imbalance, disorientation, labored breathing,” Harding answers. She strokes the horn at the top of the animal’s head. “Seems to happen every six weeks or so.”

When Eddie glances back up, he sees Mike laying across the belly of the triceratops as she breathes. He’s got a wonderstruck expression on his face. Eddie thinks this may be the happiest Mike’s ever been. Resting on the belly of a beast as she breathes, labored. Her breaths lift Mike up and then back down slowly as he strokes over her belly reverently. 

Eddie turns back to Harding. “Six weeks?”

“So we’ve noticed,” Harding says with a small shrug. “I’m doing this all on my own, though. Hard to diagnose a species that’s never been examined like this before. I’ve conferred with some herpetologists, but none of their suggestions have been helpful.”

“Her pupils are dilated,” Eddie points out. Mike crouches down into his space to check for himself. “It’s gotta be pharmacological. Could be from local plant life.”

Harding just looks at him, frowning to herself.

“Those plants over there, they’re West Indian lilacs, aren’t they?” he asks. 

“Yes,” she says patiently. “We know they’re toxic, but the architects insisted on using them. The animals don’t eat them anyway.”

Eddie frowns. “How certain are you that they don’t eat them?”

Harding glances back at the triceratops. Her expression twists. “There’s really only one way to know for certain.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, though he’s not too thrilled by the prospect himself. He stands up and extends a hand down to Mike to help him up, too. Mike squeezes Eddie’s palm once and gives him a grimace. He knows what’s coming too. “I need to see the droppings.”

“Won’t be able to miss them,” Harding tells him, and she starts to lead the way.

Richie stops Eddie, holding out his arm and putting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Dino-droppings?” Richie asks, mouth curling in disgust.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. The breeze picks up, and Eddie shivers. He hadn’t noticed the temperature drop until just now, and he rubs at his shoulders self-consciously. He’d prepared for the heat, forgetting how cold the jungle can get when the sun starts to sink.

“Cold?” Richie guesses. Eddie expects him to be more smug, considering how many layers Richie’s got on, but there’s no trace of it in his tone. He just seems concerned.

Eddie tries to shrug it off. “It’s okay, the temperature just dropped a bit.”

“Yeah, it tends to do that,” Richie tells him. He shrugs off his leather jacket, and Eddie panics.

“Richie, don’t, that will dwarf me,” he protests, but Richie just throws the jacket over his arm as he slips off the unbuttoned yellow shirt he’s wearing underneath the leather jacket. He hands it to Eddie wordlessly and eases his leather jacket back on. Without the yellow button up he’s dressed head to toe in black. Somehow, this is worse for Eddie. He turns bright pink and stammers out a thank you before pulling the button-up over his own shoulders. It’s still warm from Richie’s body heat, and he shivers from something other than the chill in the air. 

It does still dwarf him, a bit, because Richie’s a lot broader than Eddie, and his torso is longer. Eddie ties the bottom of the button-up in a knot and pointedly looks anywhere but at Richie as he hurries after Harding, finally, to find a pile of shit to stick his hands in.

* * *

“I _told you_ we needed locking mechanisms on the doors,” Beverly Marsh barks back at command. “They’re just wandering around unprotected, Denbrough.” 

“Yes, alright, we’ll add that when we open for good,” he says, frustratedly tapping at the computer to try and pull up any possible camera that might be trained outside the car. “They’ll be alright, they’ve stopped near where Sarah’s in the field with the sick triceratops. Marsh, can you connect with her over the walkie for me?”

“Soon as I’m finished with the docks,” she responds.

“Denbrough, you’re gonna wanna see this,” Patty interrupts, leaning back in her chair and beckoning Denbrough over. On her screen is the camera images from the beach, looking out along the ocean. Dark clouds are brewing as the storm gets closer.

“Fuck,” Denbrough says frankly. He rests a hand on the back of Patty’s chair, staring at the screen in dismay.

Patty lights another cigarette. “Storm center hasn’t dissipated or changed course. It’s gonna be safest to cut the tour short. We can have them pick up tomorrow where we left off. Might give them a chance to see more of the animals, too.”

Denbrough looks at Beverly, still sitting next to Patty but now cradling a phone to her ear, speaking with the people on the docks as they prepare to take the rest of the employees off the island for their safety and for their weekend off. “You’re certain we have to?” he asks.

“Sustained winds are forty-five knots right now, Bill,” Beverly tells him.

“It’s not worth taking the chance,” Patty adds on, voice gentle. She knows how much this tour had meant to him.

Denbrough sighs. He squeezes his eyes shut and pinches his nose. He’s a relatively young man, all things considered, but in this moment it’s as though he’s aged twenty years overnight. “Tell them to get back to the cars. Get my children back to me safely.”

On the phone, Beverly says to the other side, “Make the announcement that you’ll be leaving in five minutes. Tell everyone to drop what they’re doing. We’ve got to clear the island while we still can.”

Patty can hear the confirmation on the other line before Beverly nods to herself and hangs the phone up. She stands, pulling on her raincoat, and turns to Bill. “I’m going to make sure we’ve got everything we need to get our visitors safely through the night.”

“You’re too good at your job, Beverly Marsh,” Denbrough tells her. He sinks heavy into the chair she just vacated, dropping his cane to the floor. Patty switches the monitors back so that he can keep an eye on his kids when they make their way back to safety.

  
  
  
  


At his desk, unusually silent through the whole ordeal, Gray pulls up the last things he’ll need to set his plan in motion. He’s on the phone with the mate at the dock.

“We’re going to have to leave as soon as the last of the workers are onboard,” the mate yells, struggling to be heard over the winds. “We’re not well-berthed here without a storm barrier.”

“No, no,” Gray says easily. He’s a very convincing man when he wants to be. For everyone, it seems, except Bill Denbrough. “You stick to the plan. You can’t leave until I’m on that boat with you. We wait until they’re back from the tour.”

He types the last command into the console. In dark red, an option pops up in the corner of his screen. It reads: _Execute._ He doesn’t hit it. Not quite yet.

* * *

Eddie’s elbow-deep in an enormous pile of triceratops feces when Richie finally saunters up to him. He’s practically strutting, in that obnoxious way he walks, before he stops in front of Eddie, removes his glasses and says with a low whistle, “Wow. That is one huge pile of shit.”

“Thank you for that astute observation,” Eddie says dryly. He removes his hand. Harding had handed him long rubber gloves, before he had dived in, but it’s all for naught when his search comes up empty. To Harding, he says, “You were right. There’s no trace of lilac berries. Which is… strange. I mean. She’s showing all the classic signs of meliatoxicity.”

“Something doesn’t add up,” Mike says, pacing behind him. He had been reluctant to leave the side of the triceratops, but even he knew it would be best for them all to stick together during this. Eddie hums in agreement.

Behind them, Georgie pipes up, “Wait a second, I think I’ve seen this before.”

Eddie pulls off the gloves and puts them into the bag that Harding extends towards him. To Mike, he says, “Triceratops were constant grazers, right? Constant grazers are nearly always sick.”

“But consistency is the key,” Mike agrees. “Not once every six weeks, that doesn’t add up.”

“I’ve seen these before!” Georgie repeats, stepping in front of Mike and putting his hands up in Mike’s face. “In your book!”

Mike gives him a small smile, placating, and pushes gently on Georgie’s wrists to ease him away. He catches sight, then, of the objects in Georgie’s hands, and freezes. “My god,” he says, and he takes them to examine himself. “Eddie, these are. These are gizzard stones!”

Eddie whirls around. “What?”

He catches the stone that Mike tosses to him, and examines it himself. Excitement grows in Eddie’s chest. This is it, he thinks. The final piece to the puzzle that they were missing. He looks back at Mike in astonishment.

“This explains it, doesn’t it?” Mike says, though Eddie knows it’s not a real question. “This is it. This explains the periodicity, the—the, the undigested state of the berries. It’s. It’s totally incidental.”

Impatient and confused, Georgie tugs on Mike’s shirt and says, “What are you guys talking about?”

Eddie opens his mouth to explain, out of habit or instinct, but falls short when he notices Mike crouching down to Georgie’s level. Mike shows him the stones again. His voice is full of wonder as he explains, “Some animals don’t have teeth. Like the triceratops we saw earlier. Do you remember seeing any teeth?”

Georgie shakes his head.

“Good, that’s good,” Mike tells him. “You observed that. Similar to birds—they don’t have teeth, either. So what happens is, they swallow these stones. And hold them in a sack in their bellies. Those sacks are called gizzards. And the gizzards and the stones, they help the animals to mash their food.”

“So it’s a helper!” Georgie says excitedly. Mike nods in encouragement. “But then why’s it making her sick now?”

Mike lifts the stone back up again. “See how this stone is smooth? This happens in the bellies. About every six weeks. So the animal, they have to regurgitate it. Throw them up. And swallow fresh ones so she will be able to eat again.”

Grace takes a step forward. “So the new stones make her sick?” she asks.

“No,” Eddie says, finally. He points to the West Indian lilac berries. “She finds the stones in there. And when she swallows the new ones, she swallows the poisonous berries too. So they make her sick.”

Mike ruffles Georgie’s hair, pleased. “Great find, Georgie,” he says. Georgie beams from ear to ear.

“Cool little science lesson,” Richie says. Eddie glances at him, unimpressed by the tight twinge in his voice. He’s uncertain as to what Richie’s problem could be now. “You two make a great pair. You teach your volunteers like that, too?”

“We don’t have to,” Eddie starts. He’s interrupted by a loud, frightening clap of thunder. Grace stumbles backwards—Richie catches her and helps her back up.

“Doctors,” Bowers says, voice insistent now. It’s the first time he’s spoken since they discovered the triceratops. There’s no doubt in Eddie’s mind that he’s been too frightened to speak up till now. “I really, I have to insist. We should get back to the cars now.”

Harding lowers the walkie talkie that she’d been listening to, and turns back to the group. “That was Marsh. They’re cutting your tour and bringing you back in because of the storm. You’ll want to leave now.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, a bit disappointed. He looks back up the clearing, towards where the triceratops is still lying down. “You know, if it’s alright. Dr. Harding, I’d love to stay with you and finish up with her. I mean, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, wouldn’t you say?”

“Eddie,” Richie says sharply.

Harding shrugs, sliding the walkie talkie back into its place. “I have a gas-powered jeep, so I can drop you at the visitor’s center before I get on the boat with the others. Shouldn’t take us more than a few minutes to finish up.”

“Eddie, no,” Richie says, more urgently now. He puts a hand on Richie’s bicep until Eddie turns to look at him. “We shouldn’t separate.”

“It would just be for a few minutes, Richie, I’d be right behind you guys,” Eddie says dismissively. Richie’s grip tightens. When Eddie looks back at him, he realizes there’s real fear in Richie’s eyes. Eddie’s expression softens.

“Please,” Richie says. He doesn’t beg. He’s notorious for never begging. That’s what cuts through Eddie the most. “Please come back with us.”

Clearing his throat, and interrupting a moment that might have been something more if it weren’t for him, Mike says, “I think you should stay with us, Eddie. It’s safer. We could use your help with the kids. Sorry, Dr. Harding.”

“No skin off my back,” she says, wiping her hands. “I’ll be done with this in just a bit then on my way off the island.”

Lightning flashes, close enough to the island that for a moment the entire sky is illuminated. It cracks, beautifully terrifying, and is followed right away by a thunderclap that seems to shake the ground underneath them.

“Now,” Bowers says, and his voice cracks. “We have to go now.”

* * *

Rob watches in silence as waves beat against the sides of the ship with great force. They’re going to want to leave soon, to protect the employees. He’s running out of time. Damned storm. If this falls through because of a bit of rain, Rob will find a way to tear apart Jurassic Park brick by brick.

Blum’s voice says sharply, “Visitor vehicles are on their way back to the garage. All visitors accounted for.”

The door opens and closes heavily as Marsh storms her way back in, jacket wet from the rain outside. She shakes her hair out like a dog. Rob can hardly stand the sight of her. “Some tour,” she tells the room. Her accent is as thick as ever. “Two no-shows and a sick triceratops. They saw more at the raptor enclosure than anywhere else.”

“Let’s be thankful it wasn’t worse,” Blum interrupts, before Denbrough can respond. On his computer, the red _Execute_ button taunts Rob. This is his one shot, his proof of how bad things _can_ get on this island. 

He stands and stretches. Practiced ease. He’s had these lines memorized since the moment he was approached to steal the embryos. Over his shoulder, he says, “I finished debugging the phones. The systems will take around twenty minutes to compile. Some minor systems may go on and off for a while, nothing to worry about.”

“ _Now_?” Denbrough asks, incredulous.

Rob turns to look at him, gaze sharp when he finally catches Denbrough’s eye. He has a moment of satisfaction when Denbrough flinches back. “You asked me to debug the system, Boss. So I did. Is there a problem?”

Denbrough’s lip curls into an almost-sneer. “I suppose not.”

Rob smirks back. He reaches over his desk, grabbing his keys and sliding the canister of shaving cream into his pocket before turning his focus back onto his computer. His watch is synced up in perfect time with it. He waits.

“I’m going to get a Coke,” Rob announces. He keeps his voice even. Out of the corner of his eye, no one even turns to look at him. That, he knows, is the reason why he’s the best person for this job. They all hate him so deeply they won’t even notice he’s gone. With a sinister grin, he continues, “Anyone want anything?”

Blum’s nose wrinkles in distaste. Marsh hides a laugh behind her hand before leaning closer to Blum. Denbrough doesn’t even bother to look up from the monitors. Fools. They’ll regret this, and soon.

“Your loss,” he says, in a singsong voice that drips with insincerity. He moves the mouse to his computer and clicks _Execute,_ right as the second hand on his watch starts over. He stands up, satisfied, and jingles the keys in his hands as he leaves.

When the door slams shut behind him, he says under his breath, “See you all in hell.”

* * *

They climb back into the jeeps in silence. Rain starts to come down harder the second the doors shut behind them, as though it were waiting for them to return before sheathing them entirely. There’s a sharp lurch and the cars start moving backwards on the tracks.

“The kids like you,” Richie says to Mike. He gives him a tight smile. Strained. “You guys have kids?”

“Oh, no, no,” Mike answers, shaking his head. “Haven’t been lucky enough yet. Just. I’ve known Bill for ages. Knew the kids when they were born. I haven’t seen them in a real long time, though, they’re. Practically strangers.”

Richie forces a chuckle. He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that Mike didn’t dispute the implication that he and Eddie are together. He supposes, in a way, it’s the answer he’s been waiting for. “Well, they seem to like you well enough.”

“You have kids?” Mike asks. In the front seat, Eddie’s shoulders stiffen—nearly imperceptible, if it weren’t for the way Richie was so single handedly focused on him.

“Nah,” Richie tells him. He tries to keep his voice light. “Maybe someday. If the right person comes back—comes along.”

The jeep lurches, coming to an abrupt halt before Eddie can react to his slip. The rain is coming down in sheets now—their visibility is shit, but Richie can still make out the enormous fence to their right. They’re stopped outside the t-rex paddock.

“Okay, what did you touch now, Eds?” Richie teases, attempting to lighten the tension that’s settled thick between the three of them. 

“I didn’t touch anything, dumbass, we just stopped,” Eddie snaps, squinting through the window. “Mike, can you see anything?” 

“No,” Mike says, pressed up against his own window. Richie can see the wheels turning in his head. “I’m gonna check on the other car, see if they know anything.” 

Richie opens his mouth to protest, but Mike is already wrenching the door open and racing to the other jeep before he can get a word out. Eddie watches him nervously. He chews on his bottom lip; a nervous tick that Richie recognizes from when Eddie used to study for difficult exams. 

“So. How long have you two—?” Richie asks. It hurts to keep prodding, but he works hard to keep his tone even.

“What?” Eddie asks distractedly, still watching Mike as he hovers in the open door of the other car.

“You and Hanlon. How long have you—” 

“Seriously? You want to do small talk right now, Richie?” Eddie bites, whirling around with fire in his eyes. 

“Alright, fuck me, never mind,” Richie says, holding his hands up in surrender. Eddie watches him for a long moment, considering. But before he can say anything else the back door rips open again and Mike climbs back in the car, drenched from head to toe. He pulls off his hat and wrings the water out on the floor before placing back on his head. Richie’s thankful he transferred to the front seat with Eddie after their little detour.

“Their radio’s out too. Bowers said to stay put,” Mike tells them, wiping at his wet face. 

“Kids okay?” Richie asks. 

“I—yeah, I think so. Why wouldn’t they be?”

Richie furrows his brow. He likes Mike well enough, but his response is a little worrisome. They’re young, they need protecting. He tells Mike, “Kids get scared.” 

“What’s there to be scared of?” Mike asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s just a power outage.” 

“I’m not saying _I’m_ scared—” Richie starts, hackles rising. 

“I know that,” Mike interrupts, looking bewildered.

Eddie glances between the two of them, exasperated, before huffing out, “It’s fucking hot in here. Did they hear anything before everything shut down?” 

“No. Said their system went out the same as ours, no warning or message from Bill,” Mike says. 

“Odd,” Richie says. He reclines in his seat, lifting his feet to rest on the dash in front of Eddie. Eddie swats at his feet but doesn’t push him away, shooting him an obnoxious look before returning to staring out the window. It feels like a strange kind of victory. 

Mike opens the door behind him after a few minutes, lifting his empty water bottle up to capture some of the rain water still hailing down on them. He pulls the door closed again and takes a long sip before offering the bottle to Eddie, who pours some in an empty plastic cup before taking a sip. Eddie glances sideways before offering the bottle to Richie. He takes it with a grin. 

“Don’t say it,” Eddie cuts him off. 

“You’re no fun anymore, Dr. Kaspbrak,” Richie teases, tilting his head back more dramatically than necessary to take a sip. Eddie’s eyes flick from his throat back up to his face when Richie lowers his head and caps the bottle. Richie winks, and Eddie flushes and looks away. 

After that, he’s not sure how long they wait in tense silence. He closes his eyes and nearly dozes off when he feels it—a trembling in the earth below them. A vibration that shakes like thunder in the distance, right underneath their toes. Richie catches a flash of motion from the corner of his eye. He sits up slowly, crowding against Eddie’s shoulder to take a closer look at the water cup on his side of the dash. 

“You feel that?” he murmurs in Eddie’s ear. 

Eddie looks around at him, eyes wide with fear, then back to Mike. Richie inclines his head and Eddie looks back to the cup; all three of them watch as the water ripples with every slow booming clap of thunder in the distance. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie breathes. Richie looks up to see he’s looked away from the cup and turned his gaze instead to look inside the paddock. He points. “Where’s the goat?” 

“What?” Richie asks, tearing his gaze away. He can barely see past the rain soaked window. 

“The goat—it was right there, it was just right fucking there,” Eddie says frantically.

“Maybe it—” 

With a loud, resounding smack, something hits the roof of the car.

They look at each other for a moment, petrified. Richie doesn’t need to glance up to know what he’ll see, terrified to confirm his suspicions. But Eddie’s always been the braver out of the two of them; he breaks their shared gaze and looks up. And Richie, as he always has, follows his lead.

“Found the goat,” Richie says weakly. 

More accurately: he’s found the goat’s severed leg, splattered on the glass sunroof.

Before they can even so much as gasp, Richie sees movement out of the corner of his eye and turns just in time to see Bowers stumble out of their jeep, sprinting through the rain to the bamboo hut restroom nearby.

“Where does he think he’s going?” Mike asks. There’s a strained airiness in his voice that makes Richie think this is Mike’s attempt at making a joke.

Matching his energy, Richie says with a shrug, “When you gotta go, you gotta go.”

Eddie rounds on him. “I know you’re not an idiot, so stop fucking acting like it, he obviously saw something. What the fuck is happening—” 

He falls silent, tirade cut off by a loud, screeching sound that pierces through the air. A metallic grinding noise whines next, followed by a sharp snap. Five more snapping sounds follow in quick succession, grating and high pitched like guitar strings being cut. Richie moves closer to Eddie on instinct; Eddie’s hand finds his forearm, gripping tightly. They wait with bated breath.

Hell unleashes itself before them. 

A tyrannosaurus-rex, enormous and terrifying beyond comprehension, staggers through the now empty hole in the electric fence. It’s feet, easily as big as the jeeps themselves, step between the two jeeps with a thunderous boom that sets the car shaking. With practiced ease, it lowers itself and opens it’s massive mouth, letting out a deafening roar that reverberates through the entire island.

“Boy, do I hate being right all the time,” Richie says weakly. 

It roars again—the rest of the car is silent as it passes, paralyzed by fear and awe. Richie glances to his right and sees Eddie’s eyes wide as saucers, tracking the movement of the t-rex as it thunders past them, towards the bamboo bathrooms. 

Richie’s brought back from his petrified stupor by the sound of a door opening. 

“ _Mike_ ,” Eddie hisses, quicker on the uptake than Richie. Richie twists around to see Mike climbing out of the car. Eddie lets go of Richie to reach for Mike in an aborted motion. “What the fuck are you doing?”  
  
“Bowers ran. I can’t leave those kids alone,” Mike says, watching the movement of the t-rex from the corner of his eye. It’s still sniffing around the bamboo hut, growling lowly. 

“Mike, get back in,” Eddie says frantically. “It’s gonna be fine, it’ll go back to the jungle when it sees—” 

A light suddenly shines in Eddie’s eyes, and everyone freezes. Mike is the first to move, turning to look at the flashlight shining at them from the other car. Mike swears harshly, looking back to Eddie desperately.  
  
“I have to go get them. _Stay here_.” 

“ _Mike!_ ” Eddie hisses again. His voice rises with panic, but Mike’s already gone, leaving the door open and darting towards the other car. Eddie watches, horror stricken, and doesn’t seem to breathe until Mike is inside the kid’s car safely.

It’s worse, somehow, watching from a distance. Trying to piece together what happens based on how the light from the flashlight shifts through the car. There’s frantic movement, like they’re fighting over the flashlight, and the movement finally seems to catch the interest of the t-rex. Eddie sucks in a sharp breath and reaches for Richie’s hand out of instinct, muttering under his breath to turn the light off. The animal thunders towards the first car just as the light finally goes out, but it’s too late. 

“Shit. _Shit. Shit, Mike, shit!_ ” Eddie panics, leaning as far forward as he can to see what’s happening. 

“They’ll be okay, Eds!” Richie assures him, voice rising as he tries to make sure Eddie hears him. He doesn’t believe a word of it himself. “It’s not going to be interested in a metal car, it’ll sniff around and move on.” 

As though it had heard Richie’s declaration and is determined to prove him wrong, the t-rex suddenly lets loose another deafening roar and crashes its head into the sunroof. Eddie clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle his scream. Through the open door, they can make out the screams from the passengers of the other car as the t-rex tries to get its mouth on them through the plexi-glass. 

“Mike!” Eddie yelps, helpless. 

Eddie throws open his own door—Richie just barely grabs him in time, holding him back. 

“Get the fuck off me!” he cries.

“You can’t help them, Eddie!” Richie snaps, while Eddie struggles in his arms. “You’re just going to get yourself killed. You can’t help anyone if you’re dead!” 

It takes a while, but eventually Eddie stills in his arms. They both watch in stunned silence as the t-rex stops trying to get inside the car, and Richie exhales heavily. It’s only a moment of peace, until the t-rex starts to nudge at the bottom of the car instead. It lifts the car up on its side tires before falling back. Richie can’t see what’s happening on the inside of the car, and that frightens him more than anything else. They watch as time after time the t-rex pushes and pushes, knocking the jeep side to side like a seesaw. With one final agitated push and a large roar, the t-rex finally topples the jeep and flips it upside down. 

“No, _Mike!_ ” Eddie yells, struggling again in Richie’s grip. Richie wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and covers his mouth to cut off his scream.

The t-rex attacks the tires like prey, shreds them in its massive mouth, rubber dangling from its mouth when it pauses to roar. Richie stares helplessly, dread settling like a lead weight in his stomach. Eddie finally shakes him free and Richie instinctively reaches for him again, but Eddie clambers towards the backseat instead of darting out through the open door. Richie sees him pull a box out from the trunk. Eddie opens it—it’s filled with emergency brochures, a large flashlight, and an assortment of flares. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Richie grabs Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie doesn’t struggle this time. His face is determined. Even still, Richie can see the fear behind the familiar expression; Richie doesn’t think for a second that the fear is for himself. 

“Saving Mike.” 

He lights the flare and climbs out of the car despite Richie’s protests, pulling away from Richie’s grip on his shoulder. “Eddie, wait!”

And just as he did ten years ago, Eddie leaves Richie behind. 

Richie watches as Eddie runs towards the t-rex. Always the brave one, with the occasional side effect of behaving like a reckless idiot. Richie’s heart is in his throat as he hears Eddie scream out, “ _Hey_!”

The t-rex turns its great head towards Eddie. It lets out a devastating roar that echoes through the air, rattling Richie’s bones. Eddie halts, then with the hand carrying the flare, waves it deliberately through the air in a way that brings the t-rex’s attention to the light.

Richie knows that the t-rex will most likely follow the flare when Eddie throws it. He knows that’s Eddie’s plan. But for a moment, all he can see are the what ifs. What if the t-rex doesn’t follow it? What if Eddie drops it, and the t-rex sees him? What if he can’t run fast enough? If the t-rex sees him, Eddie’s going to die—Richie’s going to watch him _die._

He won’t let that happen. He can’t. Not when it’s Eddie, not even after all this time. Eddie is out there saving someone he loves. Richie is going to do the same.

Wherever Eddie goes, Richie follows. 

He twists around and grabs another flare. As he lights it up, Eddie throws his own towards the jungle, and the t-rex stomps closer to Eddie—Richie’s body floods with panic. He feels like he’s on fire, thoughts a violent cacophony of, _He’s going to die, he’s going to die, he’s going to die_. 

Richie scrambles out of the car, flare alight, and screams, “Hey, over here you sloppy bitch!” 

The dinosaur’s attention swivels towards him. _Good._

Eddie’s eyes grow wide, wild with unbridled fear. “Richie, _freeze_!” 

Richie moves.

He swings his arm erratically, welding the flare like a weapon, yelling, “You wanna dance? Let’s dance, motherfucker!” The t-rex stalks towards him, and Richie starts to run.

Eddie’s voice crashes through the rain, even louder than the booming footsteps that draw closer to Richie as he screams, “Richie, get rid of the flare!”

The t-rex roars behind him, close enough that Richie can feel the vibrations shake through him. Dread curdles in his gut, but he reminds himself that this part doesn’t matter. Saving Eddie and Mike is what matters. “Get Mike! Get the kids!” 

“Get rid of the flare, Richie, _now_!” Eddie shrieks again, voice rising octaves as he grows more desperate. 

Richie throws it away, towards the jungle, but that doesn’t stop the t-rex from chasing after him now that it’s found its real prey. Panic makes his heart pound, his breaths come quick and shallow. He _knew_ that the animal would follow the person and not the flare. He’s relieved it’s him, at least, and not Eddie. Richie runs as fast as he can, until there’s a stitch in his side, and then he keeps running. He’s aware of the t-rex chasing him only from the thundering sounds of its feet as they strike the ground.

Richie doubles around some trees, hoping to evade rather than outrun, and sees the bamboo hut Bowers ran into earlier. He pushes himself even harder to reach the door, but before he can he feels a massive jolt against his back and feels the hot breath of the t-rex as it throws him forward into the wall. 

He’s aware of the bamboo crashing down around him, on top of him, and the roar of the t-rex as it brings down the flimsy walls. He screams as he falls, feeling pain flare hot and screaming in his leg and bites down on his tongue to stay quiet as the debris settles around and on top of him. 

The bamboo hides him from view—he does his best to stay quiet even as the pain in his leg crescendos into agony—and hears the terrified voice of Bowers, uselessly pleading with an animal that finally got what it wanted: to hunt. 

Bowers screams, a frantic, “No, no, _no please_ —”, but whatever else he tries to say is halted by a sickening crunching sound as the t-rex closes in on its meal. 

Richie can only listen and try to keep his breaths deep and even, swallowing back his nausea as the animal devours its prey. It’s over relatively quickly—Richie hears one final, massive chomp, before the t-rex finally thunders away from Richie. 

“Shit, _shit,_ ” Richie hisses when he’s sure it’s no longer in the vicinity. He tries to move, and pain shoots up his leg the moment he tries to put any kind of weight on it. He bites down on his tongue to keep from crying out in pain. Richie tries to push at the bamboo that’s covering him, but it’s heavier than it looks, so he gives up after realizing it barely budges an inch. His vision is swimming, anyway. It’s entirely possible that he’s moments away from passing out.

“Rich! _Richie?_ ” a familiar voice calls, the panic in it nearly masked by the rain. “Where are you?” 

“Eds?” Richie calls back as loud as he can. He flinches as pain courses through him yet again. 

His cry must have been loud enough—moments later, the bamboo is being lifted off his body and thrown to the side. Once it’s all been removed Eddie drops to his knees beside Richie, gasping his name and frantically looking for a source of injury. He’s shaking and his eyes are red; Richie knows him well enough to know that he’s been crying.

“Mike?” Richie asks, terrified, only able to utter the one word. His head is spinning, and he can’t focus on much aside from the way his shirt is drowning Eddie’s smaller frame. The half-hysterical thought of the irony of _drowning_ crosses his mind, and he lets out a started giggle. 

“He’s okay, he was already out of the car when you pulled your dumbass stunt,” Eddie explains, voice tight. He pokes and prods until he finally reaches Richie’s injury. Richie hisses as Eddie gently runs his hands over the torn skin. “Fuck, Richie, this isn’t good. You need a tourniquet.” 

“Missed you, EMT Eds,” Richie says deliriously. Eddie ignores him and pulls off his own belt, and Richie prods, “Kids?”

“Mike had already gotten Grace out, Georgie was next. I’m sure they’re all out now,” Eddie answers, wrapping his belt around Richie’s upper thigh and tightening it as much as he’s able. “Fuck, this was so close to your femoral, Richie. What the fuck were you _thinking_?” 

“Couldn’t. Let you die,” Richie gasps out between his teeth, which have started chattering slightly. 

Eddie pauses briefly to look at him—the rain is still falling, more gently now, and hangs like a halo of mist around his face as he looks at Richie the way he used to. Like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than by his side. 

“I wouldn’t have died, idiot,” Eddie says, breaking the mini spell and going back to his task of clasping the belt now that it’s tight enough. “T-rex’s vision is based on movement, it would have followed my flare into the jungle.” 

“Well you-you didn’t t-tell me that, Doctor K,” Richie stutters. “Was scared it w-w-would still see you.”

Eddie only shakes his head in answer and unties Richie’s button down. He rips off a few strips from the bottom. Richie knows he’s way too out of it to find it hot given the circumstances, but even still, he’s only human. Eddie wraps the strips around Richie’s wound to stop the bleeding, though the tourniquet is already working to slow it significantly. Once he’s satisfied with his handiwork, he uses both hands to feel up and down Richie’s thigh, fingers pressing into the muscle, gently until he knows it’s not causing Richie pain, then pressing harder. 

“If-if you wanted to feel me up, Eds—” Richie tries to joke, but the chattering overpowers and he has to bite his tongue. 

“Shut up. I’m checking for a break.” 

“Right. C-carry on.” 

Eddie looks up sharply then, noticing Richie’s stutter. “What are you doing?” 

“Wh-what?”  
  


“Your teeth are chattering—are you cold?” 

“Freezing. Thanks f-for asking,” Richie stutters. “Think I l-lost my jacket.”

“ _Shit._ You didn’t lose your jacket, you’re. You’re in shock, Richie, fuck,” Eddie says, abandoning Richie’s leg to pull him up into a sitting position. “Don’t bend your leg yet.”

“I don’t-don’t think it’s broken,” Richie tells him, but Eddie ignores it to move behind Richie and wrap his arms around him. 

“Eds—” 

“Shhh. Don’t try to talk. Are you dizzy?” 

Eddie’s hands move up and down Richie’s arms and over his chest intermittently, creating friction to try and warm him up. He pulls at Richie’s shoulders until Richie leans back fully against his chest, holding him close as his hands work to warm him. 

“Y-you can’t tell me shh a-and then ask me a question,” Richie says. 

“Just answer the question, Rich.” 

Reluctantly, he admits, “A little.” 

“Look at me.” 

Richie tilts his head back—Eddie’s face is so close to his like this. For a moment, all Richie can focus on is how wildly his heart is pounding in his chest. Eddie looks between Richie’s eyes frantically before swearing under his breath. 

“I can’t tell if your pupils are dilated,” Eddie says irritably. “It’s too dark, and I didn’t bring my pack.” 

“Your—f-fanny pack?” Richie asks with a grin. “You still h-have that?”

It’s still raining fairly hard, but they’re close enough that Richie can see it when Eddie rolls his eyes. “It’s useful, dipshit.” 

“Not now, it’s f-f-fucking n-not.” 

“Fuck off. Your lips are a little blue.” 

“W-well, I have a cure for that one, Eddie b-baby.” 

“Jesus,” Eddie says with another eye roll and slight smile that brings out his dimples. Richie wants to press his fingertips to it to see if it’s real. One of Eddie’s hands comes up to press against Richie’s pulse point, lips moving as he counts to himself in a way that Richie’s never been able to keep himself from finding adorable, even now. 

“Pulse is a little elevated, but not too bad. Are you feeling warmer?” 

“Mmhmm,” Richie answers, He’s overcome, then, with a sudden drowsiness that has him slumping back into Eddie’s warm arms.

“No—fuck, no, Richie, you can’t go to sleep just yet,” Eddie says, shaking him a little. “Stay awake for me, okay, sweetheart?” 

He’s so tired that his brain barely registers the pet name. 

“Why not,” Richie mumbles. “You’re so comfortable.”

He barely gets his eyes open before a deafening roar fills in the air around them, closer than feels safe. Eddie looks up sharply, arms tightening imperceptibly around Richie. 

  
“That sounds close,” Eddie says. “I thought it went back to the jungle.” 

There’s a small moment of silence, as Richie struggles to keep his eyes open, before a sudden piercing sound feels the air. Another roar, then a metallic grating sound that makes Richie’s ear hurt. It’s accompanied by screams. 

“Fuck. _Mike,_ ” Eddie realizes, gasping. 

From where they are, they’re too shrouded by trees and debris from the hut to see the cars, but they can hear as the screams get louder. They can hear the roar of the rex and the sound of crushing metal. Eddie lowers Richie gently back to the ground, detangling himself as he stands, before making his way around a clearing of trees to the paddock. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie breathes. He turns as white as a sheet. “Where’s the other car?” 

Richie’s heart drops heavy into his stomach. “What do you mean?” 

“It’s gone, Richie!” Eddie gasps out, staggering back towards him. It takes a long while before Eddie’s able to tear his gaze away from where the cars should be to look back at Richie. “Here—can you stand?”

“I th-think so, if you can just. Help me—”

Eddie helps Richie to his feet, taking off the tourniquet with deft fingers now that the bleeding has stopped. Richie’s leg is still a bit numb from the pressure of it, but he can put weight on it. He can stomach the little pain he feels for the moment, if it means getting the fuck out of dodge. 

“Can you walk?” Eddie asks him, still halfway supporting his weight. 

“Yeah, I can do it,” Richie answers. He leans away from Eddie to prove to them both he can stand. 

“We have to find the car,” Eddie says. He helps Richie take a few steps with a hand on Richie’s elbow, evidently hesitant about letting him go too far without help. Richie won’t admit it, now, but he’s thankful for it. Not sure he’s ready to lose the support or the feeling of Eddie’s warm hands on him again. 

They take a few steps but freeze the moment they hear another roar, much closer than before. Richie sees it first—barely twenty feet away, the t-rex is sniffing at the track where the first car used to be. Richie pulls Eddie back into the cover of the trees, hiding behind the trunk of the largest one. 

“We have to get away from here,” Richie tells him as the rex stalks closer, still sniffing the ground. “My blood—it’ll s-smell it, it’ll come after us, we have to get away from here.” 

Eddie’s face is despondent. “But—” 

“We can’t help them if we’re dead,” Richie reminds him again, squeezing Eddie’s bicep. 

Eddie looks desperately between Richie and the open paddock. The t-rex moves closer, sniffing at the bamboo where Richie had been, now fifteen feet away. Eddie squeezes his eyes tightly and nods, like it pains him to do so, before he takes Richie’s hand. 

“Follow me. And make sure to stay out of sight,” Eddie whispers. 

They disappear into the tree line, moving delicately to protect one another, quiet as the ghosts that have haunted them all these years. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find us here: [playedwright](https://twitter.com/SPACERICHlE), [hyruling](https://twitter.com/edskaspbraking), [sabisun](https://twitter.com/sabisuns). all of us are regularly active with other reddie content but there's bound to be a few times where we talk about this au or tease upcoming chapters :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter include: descriptions of blood and injuries, mentions of vomiting, characters smoking, minor character death and descriptions of death, and body horror. this is typical of the movie and book, but still please proceed with caution as needed.
> 
> WHEW this chapter is a doozy! hope ur ready :D thank you for your patience as we got this one ready to share. we had quite a fun time rearranging our outline this weekend to make everything in this chapter work but we think it was worth the effort. we hope you enjoy!

When Mike was twenty-years old, he and his cousin crashed on a long stretch of a dirt road near their homes and flipped their car.

It was a weightlessness that Mike could never forget, even as the years went by. That pure sensation that, as time slowed down and light caught and glinted in the shattered glass fragments, for just a moment, they were flying. But then the roof of the car hit the ground, and time sped back up, and neither of them had time even to scream as the car kept rolling. By the time the twisted metal settled back on the ground with an earth-rattling creak, Mike was crying so hard he couldn’t breathe. They were lucky to climb out of the car with barely a scratch.

He isn’t so sure he’ll be so lucky this time.

He gets his arms around both Georgie and Grace right as the t-rex gets its nose under the car and flips it upside down. Mike falls back against the hood of the car as it topples, catching the kids on his chest, and he grunts as the wind is knocked out of him. Glass shatters around them as the windows finally break under the pressure.

There’s less than a second of stillness—just long enough for Mike to inhale sharply, not long enough to get a full breath before the animal bears its foot down on the front of the car and dives, tearing the tires apart with its teeth. The combined sounds of the crushing metal and the animal’s growls are deafening.

Frantically, Mike looks around, hoping to find some way to escape. They could crawl over the broken glass and pull themselves out of the car, but where would they go from there? Any movement would be caught by the t-rex’s eye.

“Damn it,” he swears, drowned out by another ear splitting roar. Where can they go? Over the enclosure, where the t-rex came from? The jungle could provide them shelter, but this is its territory—the chances of it returning to the area are high. However, the chances of running into any other species are lower. He squeezes his eyes shut as the car rocks into the ground under the force of the t-rex’s weight once again. He doesn’t have time to analyze the pros and cons. “Damn it!”

“Mike?” Georgie asks, in a tiny voice.

Mike opens his eyes. God, he can’t believe how young Georgie is. He’s even smaller now, terrified and covered in mud and bleeding from the small scrape on his forehead. His eyes are big. Brave. Even as he cries, there’s no mistaking the bravery in Georgie’s eyes. Mike’s got to save them. He’s got to save all of them.

“Get on your stomachs,” Mike tells them, and he eases both kids off of him until they’re lying side by side. Grace covers her mouth to stifle a scream as the t-rex turns its attention to another tire and digs the car deeper into the ground. “Just. Just stay put, alright? I’m gonna get us out of here.”

“The mud, Mike,” Grace stammers. He turns his gaze back to her. Sure enough, mud is seeping into the vehicle now, coating them and pulling them deeper into the ground. “What are we gonna do?”

Mike doesn’t have the answer. He looks at Grace and says, “I’m going to figure that out. I’m getting us out of here.”

“I trust you,” Grace says, and her eyes squeeze shut as she ducks her head and tries not to scream when the car rocks downwards again.

Across the paddock, ringing through the rain and the wreckage, Mike hears Eddie scream out a desperate, “ _Hey!_ ”

Mike strains his neck, filled with terror, desperate to catch a glimpse of whatever reckless stunt Eddie thinks he’s pulling to save Mike. There’s a flare in Eddie’s hand—it’s caught the eye of the t-rex. Mike lets out a muffled, victorious shout as the t-rex lifts its great foot from the vehicle and takes a step closer to the flare in Eddie’s hand.

“Thank god, Eddie,” Mike breathes. To the kids he says, “Stay put, I’m pulling you out next,” before he gets an arm out of the vehicle and drags himself out of the wreckage. He crouches just in time to watch Eddie throw the flare into the jungle.

The t-rex takes a horrifying step closer to Eddie, but its head follows the flare as it soars into the trees.

For a brief moment, Mike feels hope.

Then Richie climbs out of the car, his own flare lit in his hands as he screams, and the t-rex turns its gaze back to them. Mike’s stomach bottoms out. He can hear Eddie screaming for Richie, indistinct over the bellowing roar, but it doesn’t matter. The t-rex has already caught sight of Richie, and has finally found something to hunt when Richie takes off.

“Mike,” Grace cries out, and Mike whips back to look at them. “Mike, what’s happening?”

He can’t tell them the truth—but he won’t lie to them, either. He bends down and reaches into the car until he gets his hands under Grace’s arms and starts to pull her out. “C’mon, we have to get you out of here before it comes back.”

“Is it gonna come back?” Grace asks, right as the creature lets out another deafening roar. It’s moved away from them for the moment, but he has no doubt it will be back—he has to get the kids out _now_.

Mike grunts as he gets Grace fully out of the car. She clings to him for a moment, her piercing blue eyes, just like her father’s, wide and terrified. 

“It might,” he says honestly.

“Mike,” Eddie gasps out, finally appearing back in Mike’s line of sight. It’s hard to tell with the rain, but Mike thinks he might be crying. “Thank god, are you okay?”

“We’re alright,” Mike tells him. Grace nods. “Right, Georgie? Can you tell Eddie we’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Georgie says, still trapped in the car. “My leg’s stuck, though.”

Eddie takes a step forward, bent towards the car to peer inside.

“Richie?” Mike asks.

Eddie’s face crumples when he straightens up. “I don’t know, I don’t,” he stammers. “It chased after him, but I. I had to check on you guys first, I couldn’t leave you, he told me to—”

“Go get him,” Mike says, and Eddie chokes on a relieved sob before taking off.

“He’s leaving us?” Grace cries out, staggering to her feet to watch as Eddie runs to find Richie. “You’re letting him leave?”

Mike bends back down, reaching back into the car. “He has to, Gracie,” Mike tells her. He keeps his voice soft. “He’s got to find Richie, so we can all go back together. He’ll come back, then we’ll all go back to the visitor center together, okay?”

“What if the t-rex comes back?” Georgie asks. His leg is pinned between the driver’s seat back and the broken bottom of the backseat.

“Then we’ll freeze, and we’ll stay frozen ‘til it goes away,” Mike promises. “Hey, little man, I can see where your leg is caught. Can you turn your body at all so you can see, too?”

Georgie swallows thicky. “I think so.”

Mike gives him an encouraging nod. “Good, that will help. Then you can see how to get it out, okay? Don’t turn too fast or you might hurt it, go slow now.” Mike gets his hands underneath Georgie’s shoulders and helps him as he starts to turn. “That’s it. Careful.”

Just as they’ve started to ease Georgie's leg free, Grace lets out a terrible scream. Mike whirls around, covers her mouth with his hand and holds her still. 

“Don’t move,” he whispers, and they both freeze. It’s silent, save for the heavy footfall of the t-rex as it steps closer to the car once again. It can’t find what it’s searching for, unable to see them as they all stay still. It leans down and sniffs the car, breath hot and rancid on their faces. Grace breathes in sharply.

With a loud, frustrated snort, the creature raises its head when it’s search comes up empty—the mud covering them head to toe must offer some protection from its sense of smell. The force of it knocks the hat right off of Mike’s head, but still he remains frozen. He doesn’t move a muscle until the t-rex lets out a mighty roar and slams into the side of the car. Grace screams again as she and Mike are forced backwards by the movement of it, practically pinned between the bent metal and the cement barrier. In the car, Georgie starts to cry out in fear.

“Stay where you are!” Mike hisses to Georgie, and he reaches down to scoop Grace into his arms as they move out of the car’s path. The t-rex continues to push against the car, struggling to find an opening to reach in and grab Georgie. With nowhere else to go, Mike has no choice but to lift himself and Grace up onto the barrier to avoid being crushed.

The t-rex continues to beat against the car, slamming it up against the barrier with Georgie still trapped inside. Mike swings Grace onto his back as he reaches for one of the severed fence cables dangling nearby, wincing when Georgie screams.

“Mike?” Grace asks. She’s smart for her age. Mike knows she’s already pieced together what’s going to happen.

He swallows thickly and glances behind them. “When it pushes the car over the enclosure, the trees will catch it,” he promises, raising his voice to be heard over the rain and the screeching metal. He can feel it when Grace strains to look at it herself. “We’ll climb down this way, yeah? Just ‘til we’re safe. Then I’ll go get him.”

Grace lets out a shuddery sob. There’s a large crash of grating metal above them as the t-rex gets the car off the ground and teetering on the edge of the enclosure, too close to Mike and Grace for comfort. “The trees will catch it?”

“They will,” Mike tells her. He knows he can’t be certain, but god, he hopes. He’s running out of time to get them out of the way of the falling car, so he makes that his priority. He pulls Grace on his back, lowering them both down with the closest wire. Using what little momentum they have, he tries to swing them both towards another cable.

His foot slips off the raining concrete, and the wind is knocked out of him as his chest hits the barrier flat. Grace grips him tighter, frightened.

“Grace,” he gasps out, “can you—”

With one final, great push, and an echoing roar that rocks the world around them, the t-rex pushes the car over the barrier just as Grace grabs a hold of a second cable for Mike and swings them both safely out of the path of the falling car.

She screams again, crying out Georgie’s name as the car drops. With a terrifying crunch, the car is stopped and caught by the leafy top of the trees down below. Grace lets out a relieved sob in Mike’s ear.

“Thank god,” Mike breathes, and he waits until the t-rex lets out one last scream and turns away before he begins lowering them both down the cable to the ground safe below.

* * *

Bill Denbrough sits and watches the monitors as his children and best friend go over the edge of the enclosure. He’s miles away, safely hunkered in a concrete building, unable to do a single thing as the three people he cares about most disappear from his sight. His voice is low and dangerous when he says, “I’ll kill Gray. If he survives the night, I’ll kill him myself.”

It’s not an empty threat, but it’s one that he won’t be able to follow through on any time soon. This much becomes evident when Beverly returns to the room, raincoat dripping. She shakes her hair like a dog and shivers.

“No sign of him,” she says, when she catches sight of Bill’s expectant look. “He’s gone, sir.”

“Fuck,” Denbrough breathes. He looks away from her, raising his gaze to the ceiling. His eyes are stinging with tears. Terrified, he slams his fist against his desk and says louder, “Fuck!”

Beverly gives him a sympathetic look, but there’s not much her pity will do for him now. Not when his children’s lives are in danger, not when it’s his fault. Their mother will kill him for this, he’s sure. He deserves it—he wouldn’t even fight back. Resigned, Bill leaves his desk and returns to Patty’s. “Have you found anything?”

The cigarette in Patty’s mouth has burned down practically to her lips, but she pays it no mind. Her eyes scan each line of code critically. “I’ve run a key check on every stroke Gray entered today. It’s all standard, up ‘til this. Where he turns the safety systems off. He turned the security systems off, programmed it so no one would see what he’s about to do. Then the next entry, it’s the one that did all this: ‘white rabbit object’. ‘Cept with the key checks off, the computer didn’t file the keystrokes.”

“So… we can fix it?” Beverly asks, confused. Bill glances between the two of them, more hopeful than he thinks he has any right to be.

“Sure,” Patty says. Bill recognizes the breezy tone in her voice, and it makes his stomach sink. “I’ll just have to find the command first by going through the lines of code one by one.”

Bill speaks around the knot in his throat, asking, “And how many lines of code are there?”

She has the decency to look apologetic as she tells him, “About two million.”

“I’ve got to go get my children,” Bill says tightly, and he straightens and turns on his heel. He’s got a raincoat around here somewhere, and rainboots, he’s sure of it. Beverly grabs his arm to stop him before he can go too far.

“Boss, you’ve got to stay here,” she tells him. “You know this place better than anyone here, you’ve got to stay and help Patty. I can go. I’ll get them.”

Bill looks at her helplessly. Thinks about the soundless screams of his children on the monitor, too far from his protection. Georgie trapped in a car that took all of them over an enclosure where monsters freely roam the grounds below. He owes it to them, he thinks, to be the one to bring them back. He shouldn’t put Beverly in danger too.

“They’re my kids,” he starts, but she steps in front of him and gets both hands on his shoulders. Her expression is firm and full of concern.

“Don’t make a martyr out of yourself because of your guilt,” she tells him. “This is Gray’s fault, not yours. Don’t put the safety of the rest of us at risk. You know this place, inside and out. You can protect us all from here. I can save them out there.”

With shaking hands, Bill says, “They won’t forgive me for this, will they?”

“That’s not your choice to make for them,” Beverly says firmly.

“Bill,” Patty says, in a quiet voice. He can hardly hear her.

He nods, and shakes Beverly’s hands off his shoulders. She turns towards the door. “Bring them back to me,” he asks her gently. “Mike, too.”

“I will,” Beverly promises. The door slams shut behind her.

“Bill,” Patty repeats, more urgent. Bill returns to her desk, leaning heavier than usual on his cane as he goes. Patty’s turned to face him. Her cigarette is gone, and her face is pale.

Bill’s heart sinks again. “What is it?”

In a solemn voice, she says, “I can’t get Jurassic Park back online without Robert Gray.”

* * *

“That was a pretty stupid stunt, you know,” Eddie murmurs. His hand is still gripping Richie’s tightly as they move as quietly as possible through the trees. “You could have gotten us all killed. Then what?”

Something heavy weighs in Richie’s chest. It’s not like Richie can be truthful now, when Eddie is no longer his. Hell, he never really was to begin with—Eddie’s always been his own person before anything else. After all, it was Eddie who decided to go to graduate school at Berkeley when they’d both gotten into UT Austin. It was Eddie who decided they should break up, that the distance would be too much. He made that decision all on his own. 

“Then we wouldn’t be in this mess I guess, Eds,” Richie answers the rhetorical question, losing patience fast. His leg has started throbbing again, numbness from the tourniquet and shock long gone. 

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says. His own irritation clearly wins over his desire to keep things civil. 

Richie opens his mouth to snap back his own sharp retort, but a root chooses that moment to catch his foot—pain shoots sharp up his injured leg. 

“Fucking, _shit,_ fucking—roots!” Richie hisses. Eddie doesn’t let go of his hand, catching Richie and pulling him back where he’s stopped to hop on one foot. 

“Are you okay?”

“No! I’m not fucking okay!” Richie snaps, finally releasing Eddie’s hand by practically throwing it away from him. “I’m in a fucking nightmare swamp with my ex-boyfriend, I’m soaked to the bone, my leg is throbbing from a goddamn _dinosaur_ _attack_ , and we’ve been walking for a fucking hour and are still going in fucking circles. And you know the worst part? I fucking predicted this, I _told_ Denbrough that this is exactly what would happen! Every single thing that’s happened, I predicted all of it! Except—fuck, Eddie, except for you.” 

Eddie is stoic through Richie’s tirade, jaw clenched and eyes blank. He glances down at Richie’s leg and sighs, dropping to one knee to gently untie the strips of shirt he’d tied around his thigh. 

“You’re bleeding again,” Eddie murmurs, ripping off more strips of Richie’s button down and tying them tight. Richie is silent as he works, heart pounding, and then Eddie stands again. His hair is sticking to his forehead in the humidity, and Richie wants badly to push it back. He won’t. He can’t.

“Are you done now?” Eddie asks him, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “Because I think you just attracted every animal in a five mile radius with that little tantrum.” 

“Oh, he wants to talk about tantrums,” Richie bites out, following when Eddie rolls his eyes and starts off again. “The man who once threw a phone out of a three story window wants to preach about tantrums.” 

“Okay first of all, we lived on the second floor,” Eddie snaps, taking the bait like Richie had hoped he would. He whips around to count off on his fingers. “ _Second_ of all, it was already broken because you’d stepped on the receiver with your giant clown feet, which only happened because you wouldn’t stop leaving it off the hook after hanging up! Like I told you to do every fucking day!” 

“You’re only proving my point here, shortstack,” Richie says with a grin. 

Eddie lets out a disbelieving growl and whirls away from Richie. Richie keeps smiling, because as annoyed as he is with Eddie, it feels so fucking good to argue with him again that it’s making him giddy. No one’s ever been able to give it back to him like Eddie—he feels fucking invigorated. 

It’s entirely possible that it’s also the blood loss, but Richie will let himself be somewhat of a romantic for this. 

“We need to find somewhere to stop for the night,” Eddie says after a few more minutes of traipsing through the never-ending jungle. “We should get up somewhere high.” 

“Right,” Richie says, feeling a twinge in his leg at the thought. “Uh, you know, climbing trees isn’t exactly my forte at the best of times.” 

“I’ll help you,” Eddie murmurs distantly, like it’s nothing. His head is swiveling around to look for their best option. He lands on a tree he deems acceptable and leads them over. “This one. Look. Lots of branches close together, you won’t have to put too much stress on your leg.” 

The climb _does_ look doable, even in his current state. Richie nods at Eddie, and then they just stare at each other. 

“Well. Go on,” Eddie says, gesturing towards the tree.

Richie makes an affronted sound. “Why am I going first?” 

With a sharp roll of his eyes, Eddie says, “So I can catch you if you fall, idiot.” 

Richie’s heart squeezes stupidly. “Eds, I don’t think—” 

“Oh my god, _Richie,_ I dig up fossilized bones for a living. I was a paramedic for eight years. I’ve lifted people way heavier than you, get the fuck up there before I throw you.”

Both impressed and a little turned on, Richie gives him a tentative smile and says, “You just wanna look at my ass.” 

“Who says it can’t be both?” Eddie shoots back, quick as ever, face barely betraying him but for the appearance of his dimples. 

And it’s not the time or the place for it, but in that moment Richie realizes what an idiot he was to think he’d ever make it out of this place any less in love with him than he was ten years ago. 

* * *

Georgie is a lot smaller than Mike remembers, now that he’s been freed from the crushed car and the tree. He walks with a small limp in his leg but seems otherwise determined to keep going. He and Grace make quite the pair with their appearances. Covered in mud and blood and, in Georgie’s case, his own vomit. Grace shrugs off her own yellow rain jacket and drapes it over Georgie’s shoulders when he tells her, voice tiny and eyes full of tears. Mike looks away so the kids don’t see him blinking away tears of his own.

They each hold on to one of his hands, as he tries to navigate the jungle. It’s grown dark, and even as the rain finally stops, the sun has set for the night. Mike calls it when Georgie asks if Mike can carry him and Grace sags against his arm, exhausted.

“We should find a place to rest,” he tells them.

Grace tightens her grip on his hand. “Is it safe?”

He wishes he had more certain answers to give her. The truth is that he has no idea what to expect. Everything Mike knows about these creatures is how dangerous they had the potential to be, and how dangerous they’ve now _proven_ to be. But these are children—they’re _Bill’s_ children, and even if he can’t promise safety, he can promise to protect them as best as he can.

“Up in the trees, it will be safer,” he answers. Georgie lifts his head from Mike’s shoulder, eyes wide. “I’ll help you up, George, I promise.”

“I hate trees,” Georgie mutters, but he goes when Mike lowers him back down to the ground and follows him and Grace as they look for a tree to climb.

They climb in silence, listening to the sounds of the jungle as it embraces the night. Grace and Georgie make their way up first, and once Mike’s certain they’re up and safe, he pulls himself into the tree.

As he’s reaching for the last branch, Georgie gasps, and strains up on his tiptoes. Panic swells in Mike’s chest, and he says, “Georgie, careful—”

“Mike, you gotta see this,” Georgie breathes.

“Oh my god,” Grace says, excited. Mike pulls himself up onto their branch, and looks up.

It’s one hell of a view. The island stretches as far as the eye can see. Even in the dark, it’s beautifully illuminated by the full moon in the sky. Rolling hills and thick-leaved trees and the glint of the moonlight on ponds of water. Most beautiful of all, poking their long necks through even the tallest trees, are the dozens of brachiosauruses peacefully grazing at the leaves.

“What are they, Georgie?” Grace asks. Her voice is a hushed whisper, like she’s frightened she’ll scare them away from their safe nook in the distance.

“Brachiosaurs,” Georgie whispers back.

Mike’s eyes start to sting with tears he still refuses to shed. Leaving the kids to it, he finds a sturdy nook where the branches meet the trunk of the tree and settles himself down. Exhaustion takes over him all at once, body sagging and eyes drooping before he can help it. His eyes drift closed.

He smiles when the animals start to call out to one another. It’s almost musical, like a flock of birds.

“What are they doing?” Georgie asks, poking Mike’s leg with his booted foot. Mike opens one eye to peer at him.

“Can’t you tell? They’re singing,” Mike answers.

He’s certain he’s smiling a sappy grin, but he doesn’t think Georgie minds. Georgie beams back, just as enchanted. After a moment of listening to the brachiosauruses call out to one another, Mike leans forward himself and cups his hands around his mouth to mimic the call.

Grace turns to look at him, eyes wide. “Stop! You’ll call the monsters over here!”

It pains Mike that she’s still so frightened of them. But he can’t blame her for it, after everything. He reaches forward and squeezes her wrist. “They aren’t monsters, honey, they’re just animals,” he tells her in a gentle voice. Mike’s uncertain anything could be said to Grace to get her to change her mind, but these creatures are his livelihood. Every child deserves to experience the wonder of dinosaurs, at least once in their lives.

“Those are herbivores, right?” Georgie says, ducking down and sitting on a branch of his own. His little feet kick right next to Mike’s head.

“That’s right,” Mike confirms. Grace’s shoulders drop as she relaxes. “You know what that means, right, Gracie? They only eat vegetables. Kind of like you, right? And Eddie, he’s a vegetarian, too.”

Grace’s head turns uncertainly, once again towards the dinosaurs. There’s an almost soft upturn to the corner of her mouth. “Just like me,” she repeats.

Mike is surprised when Grace finally decides to settle in, deeming the tree safe enough and choosing to burrow herself against his side. He wraps an arm around her regardless, instinctively keeping her safe as if she were his own. He settles back against the tree too, but winces when something digs into the meat of his thigh.

With a careful hand, he pulls out the velociraptor claw they unearthed in Montana. It seems like a million years ago, after all they’ve seen today. He can hardly believe it was just yesterday he didn’t know this place existed. The claw seems so silly now—so ineffective compared to the real thing, tangible and touchable and singing them to sleep.

“What will you do if you don’t have to dig dinosaur bones anymore?” Grace asks, staring intently at the claw in his hand.

Mike swallows thickly. He’s been wondering the same thing himself. “I suppose we’ll just have to evolve next, too.”

Georgie clambers down from his branch up above and squeezes himself into the same space as Grace and Mike. This time, it doesn’t surprise Mike at all. He holds them both close and feels grateful he’s gotten them through this night. Around a yawn, Georgie asks, “What do you call a blind dinosaur?”

“Hm,” Mike hums. He hides his smile. “Can’t say I know. What do you call a blind dinosaur, Georgie?”

“A Do-you-think-he-saurus,” Georgie says. Mike can feel Georgie’s sleepy, pleased grin when he gives him a small laugh in response. “What do you call a blind dinosaur’s dog?”

Mike shakes his head. “You got me.”

“A Do-you-think-he-saurus Rex,” Georgie murmurs, and his own laughter is cut off by another heavy yawn. He closes his eyes and curls closer to Mike, comforted.

“Those are good, Georgie,” Mike tells him. His eyes are drooping, but he doesn’t look away from the claw in his hand. This had been the most important thing to him, yesterday. Now, it seems irrelevant. Now, he holds more precious things in his hands.

“Mike?” Grace asks, near sleep. Mike hums. “What if the t-rex comes back while we’re all asleep?”

He blinks his eyes open. “I’ll stay awake.”

Uncertain, Grace asks, “All night?”

“All night,” Mike promises. It’s quiet again as Grace settles back down and dozes off not long after. Georgie’s not far behind her. They’ve had a long day, Mike thinks. In for an equally long one tomorrow. He’ll let them rest.

Mike lets go of the velociraptor claw, letting it tumble to the ground below.

* * *

Patty doesn’t wander through the facility often, so it takes a while for her to find the dining area where she’s almost positive Bill is hiding out. The room is dark, save for a few candles flickering on a corner table. Bill Denbrough sits at the end of it, surrounded by buckets of ice cream. The bowl in front of him has melted over the sides. He eats, but Patty’s not sure he’s actually conscious of it.

“Bill?” she asks tentatively. She slides into the seat next to him.

Bill’s mouth quirks up in a smile—it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks at Patty, but she knows he’s seeing right through her. “They were all melting,” Bill explains, gesturing to the ice cream.

Patty nods. “Bev is back. She couldn’t go after them. It looks like Gray took the last jeep, and they’re sure to have left the area by now anyway. But she’s been looking at the tapes trying to find something.”

Bill says nothing. He eats another spoonful, eyes glazed over and distant. 

“Do you know the first attraction I ever built?” Bill asks aimlessly. His spoon clinks against the bowl as he stirs idly, still far away from this room. “Flea Circus. Petticoat Lane. It was quite lovely, all things considered. Didn’t have much money to my name, but. I made it work. We had a… a wee trapeze. A seesaw. A carousel. They all—they all m-moved, of course. Motorized, but. People used to swear they could see the fleas. It wasn’t much of a show, but they made it one. The visitors.”

He trails off. Patty’s heart pangs, looking at him like this. Bill’s not a malicious man, she knows this. He’s just a man with a dream. It isn’t his fault dreams don’t always go right. She reaches out and takes his hand.

“I wanted to give them something real, with this place,” Bill continues. “Not some. M-m-make believe illusion. Something they could see. Something they could f-feel, and touch.”

“Bill,” Patty starts.

“It’s good, I suppose, that they’re out there with Mike,” Bill says. His shoulders are shaking, and the spoon in his hand clatters messily to the table. “Who b-better to get lost in a dinosaur park with than a dinosaur expert? And Dr. Kaspbrak, he. He can take care of himself, and Dr. Tozier. They’ll. They’ve got to b-b-be okay, right?”

Patty squeezes his hand. She’s not good with comforting people like this, and her fingers are itching to light another cigarette to take the edge off of the anxiety creeping into her bones, but this is Bill. He’s been nothing but a good boss to her. A good friend.

“They’ll be okay,” she tells him. “They’re safe, for now. They’re smart, like you said. Probably hiding away in the trees. When the morning comes, they’ll find their way back.”

Bill’s eyes are filled with tears when he finally looks at her—really looks, like he has finally realized she’s there. “I’m starting to realize—Richie was right. I never had control of this place.”

Patty’s heart is heavy as she admits, “Yes, Bill. I think so too.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “When things started going wrong, y-y-you know I. I had this thought. Truly terrible of me, I… I thought, _I can still fix this._ How f-f-f— _fucked_ is that? My children are. They’re out there, they nearly. They n—they nearly died, and. For a moment, I. All I could think about was the pieces I could still p-pick up. There’s no piece worth it. Nothing worth the risk of putting them in d-d-danger.”

“Bill,” she says sadly.

“Did you believe in the park, Patty?” he asks.

She doesn’t hesitate. “I did.”

Bill’s mouth quirks up, an ironic smile. “Suppose that means we b-both lost faith tonight.”

The room falls quiet. There’s not much left for them to talk about. Patty will spend the night sorting through lines of code, even though she knows it’s probably a waste of time. And Bill will toss and turn all night until, inevitably, he returns to the control room to watch the monitors all night on the off chance he catches a glimpse of his children. They’re both in for a long night. Even so, it’s incomparable to what their guests are enduring out there.

With a sigh, Patty reaches forward with her free hand and picks up one of the spoons, still resting in the bucket of ice cream. It’s delicious. Rich, and creamy. Expensive. The children would have loved it. Hell, she’s certain the doctors would have loved it, too.

“It’s good,” Patty murmurs.

Bill lets out a tired, bitter laugh. He doesn’t even look at her as he says, “Spared no expense.”

* * *

It’s the warmth of the sun and a beam of light breaking through the thick leaves that slowly rouses Eddie back to consciousness. He’s disoriented, for a moment. Uncertain where he is, what year it is. His body feels older than it’s ever felt, sore in places he’s never felt strain, but he’s sure for a moment that he’s just a twenty-year old kid again, fallen asleep somewhere with Richie in his arms.

_Richie._

Everything comes crashing back down on Eddie all at once. The park. Extinct life returning to earth. The attack, yesterday, and Richie’s injury. Eddie opens his eyes.

It’s dawn. The sun has barely risen, but the entire park is alight. It’s the best view Eddie’s ever seen, and he only glances at it before dropping his gaze to Richie, still asleep and twined around Eddie. He’s hunched over, head pillowed on Eddie’s chest, arms wrapped tight around his middle, to keep himself or Eddie from falling in the middle of the night. His face is pale, but that’s normal—or it was, years ago, when Eddie used to wake up to him like this everyday. A quick brush of his palm against Richie’s forehead confirms that he doesn’t have a fever. Relief surges heavily through Eddie’s veins.

He wants to check on Richie’s leg, but there’s no way to do that without jostling Richie awake. And after the day they had yesterday, Richie deserves as much rest as he can get.

Eddie allows himself a moment to just look. To study the new lines on Richie’s face, smoothed over in sleep. He wonders what’s happened to Richie in the years since they’ve known each other, to put the worry lines in his forehead and the grays at his temple. They didn’t get much chance to catch up last night, passing out nearly the moment they were still and safe. His hair has almost entirely fallen out of its bun, curly strands of it falling into his eyes. Eddie gently brushes them away instinctively, smiling when Richie’s nose scrunches up. Richie wakes slowly, blinking in confusion the way Eddie had when he woke. It comes back to him more quickly than it had to Eddie—Eddie feels him go tense in his arms. 

“Holy shit, I think I’m dying,” Richie croaks, shifting up slightly to bury his head in Eddie’s neck. Eddie lets him, saying nothing while Richie groans miserably. “Everything _hurts_. We’re too old to be sleeping in fucking trees. And running from dinosaurs. Ugh.” 

“Good morning to you, too,” Eddie says. He sits up straighter, and Richie follows in his steps, stretching as much as he can in the small space. Richie had laid his jacket out across their laps overnight, offering miniscule warmth. As he stretches, Eddie gets a glimpse of his biceps stretching the fabric of his black t-shirt sleeves—more defined now than he remembers from their twenties. He blushes when Richie catches him and quickly looks away. 

“How’s your leg?” Eddie asks, changing the subject before Richie can start. 

“Hurts,” Richie says simply, wincing as he bends it so Eddie can take a look. 

Eddie unties his makeshift bandage and runs his fingers over the swollen skin around Richie’s wound. It's a little warm to the touch, which means possible infection—he’s going to need strong antibiotics as soon as they get back to civilization. Otherwise the wound doesn’t look bad, considering their circumstances—it needs to be cleaned and stitched properly. But at least it’s stopped actively bleeding, and there’s no significant pus or drainage. 

“You need antibiotics,” Eddie tells Richie. “And water, and proper first aid, and stitches probably—no, definitely.” 

“If only you had the fanny pack,” Richie teases wistfully. Eddie scowls. 

“If I had it, I could at least do some rudimentary stitches and disinfecting, smartass.” 

“Of course, sorry for disparaging your super cool, limited edition moon-landing fanny pack. _Please_ tell me you still have that one.” 

“Oh my god, enough. I’m not doing this again,” Eddie snaps. He pulls himself up to peer out at the ground around them. “We should get moving while it’s safe.” 

“Okay. And where are we going?” Richie asks. 

Eddie hesitates. He glances at Richie’s leg again, then back to the park. “We should look for Mike.” 

“Eds,” Richie starts, gritting his teeth as he pulls himself up as well. “We looked for Mike all night. If you were him, where would you go?” 

“I’d—” Eddie pauses. He knows what Richie is angling for, and isn’t pleased about it. Reluctantly, he admits, “Probably try to find the visitors center.”

“Exactly,” Richie says gently. “That’s got to be where Mike is taking the kids. We should head that way too. We’ve already walked a few miles in the right direction anyway, right?” 

Unsettled, Eddie mutters, “Why are you asking me?”

“I didn’t forget your impeccable sense of direction, Eddie baby,” Richie says with a wink. Eddie shakes his head. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

Richie relents with a shrug of his shoulders, saying, “Maybe. But if we go backwards, I promise all we’ll find is an empty enclosure. I’m positive they’re heading for the visitors center, too.” 

Eddie hesitates again, biting his bottom lip. Richie touches his shoulder gently, squeezing when Eddie doesn’t pull out of his grip. “We can’t help them if we’re dead, remember? Heading back to civilization and a working jeep is our best bet.” 

“Okay,” Eddie says softly. “Okay, you’re right.” 

“Good,” Richie says, not gloating for once. It’s a strange look for him, but it makes Eddie’s heart swell even more. “Let's get out of this fucking tree.” 

* * *

He’s mostly dozing, as he has been all night, when a shadow befalls them. Mike tentatively opens one eye to investigate while the kids are still asleep, curled up against him and unaware of the world waking up around them. They don’t even stir when a young brachiosaur pushes into the tree branches right beside them.

Mike’s eyes go wide in wonder.

They’re even more beautiful up close. Ethereal almost, in a way he can’t quite wrap his head around. The animal peers at him curiously. He wonders what’s going through her head. Whatever it is, she decides to pay them no mind, and opens her great mouth to chomp heavily down on leaves from the branch above them.

This, at last, startles the kids awake. Georgie’s up first, stumbling precariously onto his feet and pointing in awed silence.

Grace gasps, but Mike holds her close and quiets her before she can scream. “It’s alright, honey,” he promises. He keeps his voice soft. “It’s just a brachiosaur. They’re herbivores, don’t you remember?”

“Vegetarians,” Grace says uncertainly. Mike gives her an encouraging smile as he eases them both to their feet.

“That’s right, just like you,” Mike reassures her. He reaches for the branch above him and pulls it down, extending it towards the brachiosaur. “Look at her teeth. Doesn’t she remind you of a big cow?”

Georgie lets out a delighted peal of laughter as the brachiosaur clamps down on the branch. She tugs it forward, but Mike keeps a tight grip. He laughs, too, when the animal turns it into a game of tug-of-war.

“I like cows,” Grace admits. She finally leans forward, extending a tentative hand to touch the dinosaur’s head. She lets out a disbelieving laugh when the animal nudges into the touch. “She’s beautiful.”

Mike crouches down, mesmerized by the brachiosaur. For a moment, there’s relative calm around them, and he doesn’t worry about taking the time to study her. He watches the way her jaw moves as she chews her food, watches her eyes as she looks at them warily but overall, disinterested.

“It looks like she’s got a cold, doesn’t it?” Georgie asks, pointing. Mike shifts forward to examine it. Georgie’s right. It does appear that she has a runny nose, though Mike couldn’t even begin to theorize as to why. Eddie was always better at that part.

_Eddie._ God, what a mess they’ve gotten into in this park. Mike feels guilty suddenly that he spent practically the whole night without thinking about Richie and Eddie, too preoccupied with the kids to wonder whether or not they’re alright. He’s certain that Bill would have sent out one of the jeeps to the paddock once the t-rex was gone. He hopes that Eddie and Richie went back with him, then. Hopes that they’re all safe and waiting for Mike to bring the kids back.

They’ve got to leave, soon, now that they’re all awake. It will be better in the long run, if they start early. But he’ll let the kids have this, at least. If just for another moment.

The brachiosaur withdraws suddenly, and Grace staggers back against Mike in alarm. He grabs her, but there’s nothing wrong—the animal just pulls back for half a second, before sneezing loudly over all of them.

Mike’s laughter is still echoing through the trees when Georgie rings out, “God bless you!”

* * *

“You’re out of your goddamn mind,” Patty says calmly. 

Bill looks cooly back at her, face not betraying any of the frustration and desperation she knows he feels. Still, this idea is _insane,_ and more dangerous than any of them are willing to accept.

“What exactly would this mean?” Bev asks, sidling up to Patty in control. Patty feels Bev’s pinky brush her arm, in a small gesture of comfort. 

“We’re talking about a calculated risk,” Bill says matter of factly, ignoring when Patty _tsks_ in annoyance at the over-simplification. “It’s the only option left. Patricia’s been working on finding Gray’s command all night, and is no closer to finding it than when she started.” 

“Hey, now—” Bev starts angrily, but Bill holds up a hand to stop her. 

“I’m not saying she’s not working hard, or doing everything she can. Gray covered his tracks too well, and it’s obvious he’s not coming back. You spent all night watching the screens for him, Miss Marsh, with no success.” 

Bev glances at Patty before nodding her head. 

“So I’m saying if Patricia can’t fix this, then there is no hope for the rest us, and shutting down the system—” 

“I won’t do it. You’ll have to find someone else,” Patty interrupts fiercely. 

Bill pauses, looking at her imploringly before he continues, “ _Shutting_ _down the system_ is the only way to wipe out everything he did.” 

He turns back to Bev as he speaks. “As I understand it, all the systems will then come back to their original start-up mode, correct?” 

“Theoretically, yes,” Patty admits around a huff. Bill claps his hands together, satisfied with that, and doesn’t seem to listen even as she hurries to continue on, “But we’ve never shut down the entire system before! There’s a chance it won’t come back on at all.” 

“How large a chance?”

“Are you really willing to risk what would happen if it doesn’t come back, Bill?” Patty asks. 

Bill’s jaw clenches. “I’m willing to risk whatever we need to to get my children back. To get Mike back, and Dr. Kaspbrak and Dr. Tozier, all back here _safely,_ and to get us off this island in one f-f-f— _fucking_ piece.” 

Patty falls silent, shaking her head softly as they stare at each other. Bev takes a step forward to interrupt the standoff. 

“If we do this,” Bev says, wrapping a hand around Patty’s wrist and turning to address her. “Will we get phones back?” 

“Yes. In _theory_ ,” Patty stresses, still eyeing Bill. 

“There is no _theory_ about what’s happening out there,” Bill explodes, taking several loud steps towards them, cane striking the floor hard. “People are _dying!_ ” 

It’s silent in the room, save for the whir of machinery around them, as the echoes of Bill’s outburst settle around them. The smoke from her cigarette, lit and dangling from her fingers, burns her eyes but Patty holds Bill’s gaze. His eyes are red-rimmed now, filled with tears. The grey hair at his temple seems more prominent now than it ever has. 

“Will you _please_ shut down the system?” 

Bev squeezes Patty’s wrist, nodding. Patty adjusts their grip so that she’s holding Bev’s hand and squeezes back before dropping it, then grabs the keyring on her desk and heads for the circuit breaker. 

She unlocks it, Bill and Bev close behind, and shuts off a few breakers unceremoniously. She takes a deep drag of her cigarette before shutting down the main breaker, turning the room to darkness. 

Bev holds a flashlight up so she can see her watch; she counts down one minute, then takes another drag of her cigarette and turns to the other two. 

“Hold onto your butts,” she says again.

Patty flips the main breaker back on—nothing happens. The room remains shrouded in darkness, Bev and Bill illuminated only by the light of the flashlight. 

“Um,” Patty says uncertainly, an exasperated _I told you so_ on the tip of her tongue. 

“What’s going on?” Bill asks. 

Something catches her eye—a blinking screen in the corner of the room. Slowly Patty makes her way over, Bev and Bill watching silently. In the corner of one of the monitors, the words _System Ready_ are flashing repetitively. 

“Oh, it’s—it’s okay! Look at this, it worked!” she cries, pointing at the screen. 

“But everything’s still off,” Bev tells her. Her voice is even but Patty knows her well enough that she can still hear the trepidation in it. 

“Maybe the reset tripped the circuit breakers,” Patty theorizes. “All we have to do is turn them back on, reboot a few systems, phones, security doors, handful of others, but it worked! The system’s ready.” 

“Where are the breakers?” Bev asks. 

Excitedly, Patty turns back to face them both. She tosses her cigarette unceremoniously to the ground and stomps it out with her boot. “A maintenance shed at the other end of the compound. Ten minutes, I can have Jurassic Park back online.” 

“That’s great, Patricia, thank you,” Bill says, exhaling. 

Patty nods and squeezes Bill’s shoulder briefly. She turns to Bev and cradles her cheek—Bev smiles, a little tight around the edges, and presses a kiss to her palm. Bev hands her the flashlight and squeezes her free hand before letting her go.

“While Miss Blum is gone, I want you and I in the emergency bunker, Miss Marsh,” Bill says. “Meet us there when you’re done, Patricia.” 

“I will,” Patty says, saluting as she exits the control room. 

_Ten minutes,_ she mutters to herself as she exits into the dull sunlight, still shrouded by rain clouds. 

* * *

The jungle is endless. They’ve walked for hours, and Eddie swears they keep passing the same tree every twenty minutes despite maintaining a linear path. 

His legs are sore. His stomach has been grumbling angrily since they woke up. They finally found a stream about an hour ago, and his thirst overruled his fear of microbes—he and Richie drank as much as they could before moving on. So far neither have died from dysentery, so it’s probably fine. Probably. 

Richie stumbles along a few feet behind him; Eddie knows his leg is hurting more than he’s letting on, but he keeps up with Eddie without complaint. Well—not _much_ complaint. 

“Christ, it’s hot as Satan’s armpit out here,” Richie complains again, when they pause to catch their breath. Storm clouds have gathered overhead, making the humidity in the air stifling. Eddie feels like he’s breathing through a damp washcloth—Richie ditched his jacket hours ago. “Hard to believe we were cold last night.” 

“ _You_ were cold,” Eddie corrects. “It barely got below sixty after the storm. You were just in shock.” 

Richie sits on one of the nearby tree trunks, wincing as he stretches his injured leg. “How far do you think we are?” 

Eddie shrugs, sitting on a trunk opposite him. He watches his face carefully as Richie gingerly moves his leg. “Another few miles, probably. We can make it before dark.” 

They’re quiet for a few moments. Thunder starts rumbling, far in the distance. Birds chitter in the trees above them—though, when he thinks about it, Eddie isn’t sure he could differentiate between birds or small dinosaurs. He looks around uneasily. 

“He’s going to be okay, you know,” Richie says. 

Eddie blinks, tilting his head slightly. “What?”

“Mike. Your face is doing that pinched, worried thing. Mike will be okay.” 

Irritation crawls its way into his skin—it’s irrational, he knows, but he can’t help it. Shortly, Eddie mutters, “Stop talking about him.” 

Richie huffs a short laugh. “Wow. Okay, fuck me then.”

“Yeah, fuck you,” Eddie snaps. “You keep bringing him up like—like you give a shit. I _know_ he’ll be okay, I don’t need you to coddle me and tell me whatever you think I want to hear!” 

“I _do_ give a shit,” Richie whips back, affronted. “God, Eddie, do you really think that little of me?” 

“ _No_ , Jesus, it’s not that—”

“Okay, then what is it?” Richie asks, rising to his feet. Eddie stands too, to even the playing field. “One minute you’re calling me sweetheart, the next you’re jumping down my throat for having basic human decency.” 

“Because I know what you think about Mike!” Eddie all but shouts, forgetting where they are for a moment. “You think he’s my—that we’re—” 

Startled, Richie interrupts, “Together? Of course I think that, why wouldn’t I?” 

“For God’s sake, Richie, we’re _not._ And why _would_ you think that? You don’t know shit about me anymore, you’re not in my fucking life anymore, remember?” 

Eddie storms away, intent on leaving Richie far behind in his wake, but of course Richie is hot on his heels, biting back, “That’s rich, coming from you, Eds.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Eddie demands, whirling around and pulling them both to a stop. Richie winces, putting unexpected weight on his leg to accommodate Eddie stopping so suddenly. Eddie would feel worse about it if he didn’t also want to punch him in the jaw a little. 

“What do you think it means?” Richie says. He hisses as he shifts his weight back to his good leg. “We were gonna try to stay friends, Eddie, but you just fucking—you just left me in the dust.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. “I _tried_ to be your friend, Richie! I called you, every _week_! You’re the one who hung up on me and never answered my calls again, and I never even—I never even got an explanation why!”

The look that Richie gives him is incredulous, like he can’t comprehend what Eddie’s saying. Like he can’t believe that Eddie has the nerve to call it what it was. “Do you even remember what we talked about, the last time you called?”

“Of course I do!” Eddie yells. Thunder rumbles overhead again, closer than before. Eddie can smell the ozone in the air. “I was going to come visit you in Austin, and you got all weird and distant and told me not to come.” 

Richie looks stricken. “Eddie—” 

“And when I asked why, you just kept saying it was a bad idea,” Eddie continues, breathing hard, chest splintering apart all over again. “That’s all you fucking said. And when I asked you again, you hung up on me and didn’t answer my calls. You never called me back. I never heard from you again, so yeah Richie. I fucking remember.” 

“Eds,” Richie says weakly. He looks on the verge of tears, but Eddie can’t see past his own fury and hurt. 

“I loved you,” Eddie says, voice cracking. Richie clenches his jaw—rain starts to fall softly around them, drops landing on Richie’s face like tears. “I loved you so much Richie, and you just. Disappeared.” 

“You think I didn’t love you?” Richie asks, eyes glassy. “You think I wanted what happened?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You didn’t fight that hard for us either, Eds,” Richie snaps. “You’re the one who called it because the distance was too much. And you knew I needed to be closer to home, and you _still_ chose Berkeley over me.” 

“That’s what you think? You _told_ me to go to Berkeley!” Eddie throws back, hysterical and reckless. He knows they’re being too loud, but he can’t control himself. “You told me you didn’t want to make me choose, that I shouldn’t throw away what Berkeley was offering for you! I would’ve done—fuck, Richie. I would’ve given it up in a second if you’d asked!” 

“How could I ask that?” Richie snaps. “Would you have asked that of me, if the situation was reversed?”   
  


“Maybe!”

“No, you wouldn’t have, don’t fucking lie to me Eddie!” Richie shouts. 

Richie seems just as startled by what he’s said as Eddie feels, stumbling back under the weight of his words. For a moment, they just stare at each other silently. All of the fight has drained out of them both, now. The rain starts falling heavier. Eddie almost wishes it would drown him, just to give him a reason to get out of this conversation.

“I guess we’ll never know now,” Eddie says with an air of finality. 

Without another word, he spins on his heel and walks away. 

Richie doesn’t follow him. 

* * *

“I’m starving,” Georgie complains, early into their trek back through the jungle. The horrors of yesterday seem long gone in his mind, and Mike is grateful for it. Grace, on the other hand, huffs and stomps her feet, walking several yards ahead of them. “How far are we, Mike?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know for sure,” Mike tells him apologetically. “We’ve just got to keep walking and hope we find something.”

Grace whirls around, upset by the prospect. “Oh, that sounds like a _great_ idea!” she says sarcastically. “Bet nothing will go wrong with _that_ plan!”

Critically, Mike says, “How old are you, again?”

“She’s never going to try anything new again,” Georgie tells him. His little legs can’t keep up with Mike on their own, so he clings to Mike’s hand as they walk. “Took a lot of convincing from Da to even get her out here, now she’ll just sit all day in her room and never come out and play on her computer.”

“It’s not _playing,_ Georgie, I’m a hacker,” Grace snaps.

Grinning, Georgie continues, “That’s what I said! You’re a nerd! That’s what everyone calls you, you know.”

“Georgie, be nice,” Mike begins to chide, but he catches sight of something at the trunk of a tree and slows to a stop, mesmerized.

“I am nice!” Georgie protests. He doesn't even seem to notice when Mike lets go of his hand to go investigate the tree trunk. “I’m just telling her she’s a nerd, and that’s what everyone says!”

Mike crouches down and reaches with a tentative finger, touching a broken edge of his discovery. His silence must draw the kids’ attention, because it’s only another moment before they stop bickering and come to peer curiously over his shoulder.

Grace gasps. “Are those—?”

“Holy shit, those are dino eggs,” Georgie breathes. He ducks underneath Mike’s arm to get closer, eyes wide.

“Hey, watch your mouth,” Mike says on instinct, but that’s as far into the reprimand as he gets before he returns his focus back to the ground. Because they are. Dinosaur eggs. Larger than a bird egg but still small, all of them cracked open and hatched. This could have happened days ago or just hours ago, but it definitely happened here in this very spot. Irrefutable proof of dinosaurs breeding in Jurassic Park.

“They are,” Mike finally says, because now that the kids are here it’s not just his discovery. He’ll share it with them, knowing they deserve this moment of wonder after everything. “They’re breeding out here.”

Georgie shakes his head, reaching out to touch one of the eggs himself. “But Da said all the dinosaurs are girls.”

Mike sucks in a sharp breath as the realization dawns on him. “Amphibian DNA. That’s what your dad said, right? They used frog DNA to fill in the gene sequence gaps. They took the genetic code of dinosaurs and blended it with frogs, and—there’s a. There’s a few species of frog, West African frogs, I think, that have been known to spontaneously change sex in a single sex environment—”

“What does that mean?” Grace asks, eyes wide.

Mike glances at her. It’s hard to keep the excitement out of his voice as he tries to find a better way to explain this. “Grace, see, there are animals that evolve to find ways to stay alive, right? And sometimes that means finding ways to breed even when that’s not possible.”

“So it’s possible?” Georgie asks. He cradles a broken shell fragment in his hands, and his face is open with wonder.

Mike raises his gaze to the distance, to wherever Richie might be. Revelling in the fact that he predicted this, and that he was right. Tears spring to Mike’s eyes as he murmurs, quietly to himself, “It’s more than possible. It happened. Life found a way.”

* * *

Not for the first time in his life, Robert Gray wakes up in a sewer pipe.

It is near mid-day, by the time exhaustion finally lets go of him and he is able to shake himself to consciousness. His face still hurts, burns still stinging from where the dilophosaurus had spat poison at him.

Everything went to shit last night. All of it. Starting with the godforsaken rain flooding the roads and causing him to hydroplane and crash into the trees. He’d lost the embryos. He’d totaled the jeep. And in his desperation to run towards where he believed the dock to be, he’d been attacked by one of Denbrough’s godforsaken _monsters_ that he keeps on this island.

His face is marred now, with the burns. So are his hands. Just one more thing that Bill Denbrough and his scam of a company have taken from Robert Gray.

Rob’s only chance now is to hide out until next week. To stay hidden try to keep himself alive until the boats with park workers return, and to sneak onboard until he can safely stowaway and make it off of this hellscape with a shred of his dignity left.

What he’ll do once he’s free, he hasn’t decided yet. Something to continue his attempt to bring down Bill Denbrough and InGen. His need for revenge has strengthened now that Denbrough and his uncontrollable monsters have cost him his million dollar signing bonus and have put him in danger’s way for no reason.

Rob isn’t frightened of danger. In fact, he thrives in it. But that doesn’t change the fact that last night he nearly died at the hands of a creature he’s certain he should be able to crush under his feet. And it doesn’t change the fact that he spent the night sleeping in a drained sewer pipe, the only place he could find high enough and with a barred gate he could close behind him.

Still, he can’t stay here forever. The rain will let up and he’ll venture back out there and creep silently through the jungle until he makes it to the dock. The dinosaurs are the least of his worries. After all, he’d made sure the most vicious creatures on this island, Bill’s precious raptors that he’d insisted on breeding, stayed locked up. Even as he’d shut everything down, he’d taken care to ensure they weren’t freed.

With that reassurance in his mind and a thirst for vengeance coursing through his bones, Robert Gray pushes open the gate to the sewer and climbs out, re-entering the jungle at last. 

* * *

Richie never catches up to him. The rain is too heavy to see much of his surroundings, and just as Eddie’s about to double back for him, the t-rex makes itself known with an earth-quaking roar. He knows Richie is smart enough to hide, and to draw attention by running around looking for him would be idiotic. 

So he grits his teeth and keeps moving, ducking into large overgrowths and trees when the roaring of the t-rex becomes too close for comfort. 

He fumes as he walks, letting the anger fuel him, distract him from the pain in his feet and the dryness of his throat. Leave it to Richie to bring up ancient history when they’re fighting for survival—he was always too dramatic for his own good. He ignores the voice in his head reminding him that he’s the one that started it, choosing instead to continue to blame Richie for all of it. For them getting lost, then getting separated, all because he had to pull his stupid stunt with the flare. 

_To save your life,_ the voice points out, sounding far too smug. He ignores it. 

The rain eases slightly, but not enough. He’s soaked to the bone, Richie’s oversized shirt clinging to his skin. Despite the rain he’s sweating profusely—he unties Richie’s shirt, pulls it off his shoulders, and ties it around his waist instead. The wind and rain on his bare arms feels good, cooling him significantly. 

He almost misses it, distracted as he is by thoughts of Richie and his idiocy and, underneath it all, the agonizing worry over whether he’s alright. But then Eddie sees it, a building off to his left—not the visitors center, but a smaller building that looks almost like some type of shed. His heart starts pounding, sure he’s finally going to find someone who can help. 

Eddie turns, heading towards the shed, when a tiny sound stops him dead in his tracks, frozen with fear. Adrenaline spikes in his blood, making him feel dizzy with it when his brain catches up with his instincts. 

It’s the unmistakable sound of bones snapping. 

He ducks behind a tree, peering around it slowly, looking for the source. He sees a tail swinging in the air, the body ducked over something as it tears into its prey. Heart in his throat, he moves closer, inching towards the sounds. 

His heart falls to his stomach when Eddie finds exactly what he feared.

Ten feet away, the mangled body of one of the park’s workers lies on the ground before him, half eaten. The velociraptor pays him no mind as it tears at her meal, bones breaking in her mouth like they’re no more than carrot sticks. His stomach churns as she tears flesh from the victim’s leg. 

Morbid curiosity keeps him there, frozen, unable to look away as she devours him. And then all at once he remembers that raptors are pack animals, remembers all of Mike’s stories and theories of how they hunted. He glances around quickly, though he knows it does him no good—the others would be camouflaged well enough that he’d never see them before they attacked. 

Slowly, he steps back, glancing over his shoulder to find a way out. He nearly makes it to a climbable tree when his foot steps onto a fallen branch with a loud, echoing _snap._

The raptor looks up sharply. Eddie doesn’t even have time to duck—she makes eye contact with him and holds it, snarling quietly. 

His last thought before he runs is that he hopes Richie isn’t the one to find his body. 

* * *

Beverly Marsh is not the type of woman to jump to conclusions. She wouldn’t have gotten this far in her career if she did. She’s learned to trust her gut instincts, but to give her gut a chance or two to think things out before jumping into action. It helps, in this career. And it's saved her from a lot of heartbreak.

So it should surprise her more, as she paces back and forth along the concrete walls of the bunker, when ten minutes go by without Patty returning.

“Something’s wrong,” Beverly announces. She comes to a halt. Bill Denbrough is in the room with her, but he’s barely aware of it. She’d feel more for him if she weren’t so focused on the fact that Patty _hasn’t come back._ “I can’t, I can’t just. I’m not waiting anymore, Denbrough. Something went wrong. I have to go find her.”

Bill takes a deep breath. “You think you’re just going to stroll down there?” he asks. His voice is despondent.

“No!” Beverly snaps. She storms over to the steel cabinet and throws open the doors, slinging a shotgun strap over her shoulders. “No, I’m not going to just _stroll down there,_ the shed is right past the…”

She trails off, horrified, as the realization sinks heavy onto her shoulders. Bill doesn’t even notice.

“The raptor pen,” she chokes out.

They shut the power off. They shut _everything_ down, which means the locks turned off, and the electric fences around their pen. And the velociraptors—the Big One, all of them, more clever than they have any right to be, are now roaming free.

Beverly pulls another weapon from the cabinet, a barrel that strongly resembles a small rocket launcher. She shoves a shell into it before slamming the cabinet shut.

This, at last, startles Bill into looking at her. “Where are you going?” he asks.

“To get Patty,” Beverly says. She slings both weapons over her shoulder and turns to face Bill head on. “I’ll get the power back on as soon as I find her, but. The velociraptors, Bill, we. We freed them.”

Bill goes pale.

She takes a walkie-talkie from a shelf and tosses it to Bill before clipping one of her own to her belt. “Keep channel two open. I’ll tell you what I see. Do not leave this bunker, no matter what. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, I…”

“What?” Bill asks. He shifts forward leaning heavily on his cane.

Beverly steels her shoulders back and looks him square in the eye. “Then I’m dead,” she says simply, and she adjusts the straps once again before running up the stairs of the bunker.

* * *

For as smart as Richie is, he has an awful habit of making an ass out of himself at the worst times.

Eddie walked away, and for the second time in his life, Richie had just let him go like a fucking idiot.

He’d been pissed off earlier, ready to pick a fight over the most inconsequential shit. His skin felt like it was burning him up. Every inch of him was consumed by the feeling of having Eddie in his arms again, and the grating fact that none of it was real was enough to make even a sane man snap.

Still, he hadn’t meant to separate them. He hadn’t meant to let Eddie get so far, lost in his own stupid head. By the time he realized he couldn’t see him anymore, the rain was falling heavy around him, and Eddie didn’t respond when he called his name. 

The t-rex did. 

Richie had heard the sound that will no doubt haunt him for the rest of his life echo around him, and he knew he had to move. He’d followed Eddie’s footprints, half blind from the rain and his own panic, but Eddie didn’t turn up. The t-rex roared again, even closer still, and Richie could feel its earth shaking footsteps. He’d hidden in a small crevice between two trees until the roars faded away, praying that it was heading away from Eddie as well, and then he was well and truly lost. 

Now he’s wandering the jungle, confused and worried and starving. It’s been at least three hours since he last saw Eddie, and he’s so turned around he’s about ninety-percent sure he’s probably heading towards the beach at this point. He’s a mathmatician, he was never a fucking Boy Scout like Eddie. 

“God, fucking _damn_ it,” he mutters. He kicks a rock with his bad leg, and hisses when it hurts.

The worst part of this is that he predicted this, like he’d said earlier. He predicted _all_ of it, he predicted everything down to the malfunction that led to this disaster. Unfortunately, even Chaos Theory didn’t account for ex-boyfriends showing up unannounced with gas to burn and a fire in their eyes that has only gotten brighter with time.

Fuck. Richie’s such a fucking moron. Going and falling in love with Eddie all over again. Or maybe he was a moron for thinking he ever fell out of it in the first place. From the moment they met, his world orbited Eddie’s. He rewrote physics and biology and basic math just to orbit Eddie. And what was it all for? An apartment to himself in Austin, and a shiny degree he hadn’t even wanted if it meant he was on his own. An apartment that turned into a new apartment that turned into a new city that turned into the one place he was certain he’d never accidentally bump into Eddie Kaspbrak. And all that caution, for what? All the changes Richie made. Everything he relearned. Rewriting his body chemistry again, after all of it, so that he’d be able to feel like he could breathe even though Eddie wasn’t there anymore.

If they make it out of this, Eddie will go his own way. He’ll wave Richie off at the airport and disappear, and Richie will be alone again. He’ll grow older and he’ll remain alone and he’ll have his twenty-year-old memories as his only company. 

His miserable thoughts distract him enough from the pain in his leg, worse every time his foot slips in the mud, that he doesn’t notice the trees clearing until he’s nearly out of them. With a jolt, he realizes he’s inadvertently made it back to the visitors center despite everything. 

Richie nearly runs when he sees how close he is—just over the crest of a small hill. His leg throbs as he forces himself up the hill, panting, muscles screaming from the exertion and probably dehydration. 

When he finally makes it through the doors, Richie shivers. Yesterday the place had been teeming with life, with workers and employees bustling around. Now there’s just silence—the giant skeleton hanging from the ceiling creaks ominously. 

He limps his way inside slowly, trying to remember the route they took to the control room yesterday. He manages to find it—but it's just as empty as the rest of the building. 

“Hello?” he calls quietly, just in case he’s missed anyone. 

No one answers, but after a minute he hears the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind him. 

“Patty?” a woman’s voice whispers sharply, hopeful.

Richie turns around to find Beverly Marsh in the doorway. Her expression drops when she sees him. 

“Sorry,” Richie says. She’s got a weapon slung over her shoulders and a shotgun in her hands and looks mildly panicked. “Where is everyone?” 

“Gone. Most of the employees left before the storm yesterday. Bill’s in the bunker, Patty’s—” Beverly cuts herself off, when her voice starts to rise in panic. She steels her shoulders and her resolve. “Look, I have to find her. The bunker is down the stairs over there and to the left. Bill will let you in.” 

“Wait,” he calls, heart thundering in his chest. “Am I the only one that’s made it back here?” 

“Yes,” Beverly answers simply, and then she’s gone, jogging away. 

Richie swears quietly, then follows her outside again, careful to keep quiet in case she notices and tells him to turn back. But she’s already long gone when he steps outside, but it’s not her and her giant gun he’s worried about. 

“Eddie!” he calls loudly. He knows it’s stupid. He doesn’t care. “Eds! Where are you?” 

The only response he gets is a sharp crack of lightning and a distant scream. 

* * *

Eddie’s legs carry him as fast as they can, but it won’t be fast enough. 

He can feel the raptor on his heels, can hear her heavy footfalls as she pursues him. He doesn’t let himself look back—the second he loses his footing he’s dead. 

He should be dead already—the raptor should have caught up with him long ago. She nearly did, jumping for him as he’d made a sharp turn around a large rock, and one of her sharp claws grazed his cheek. It’s still bleeding, throbbing with every beat of his heart, but he pays it no mind. He runs, panting and terrified, and prays that when she catches him, she kills him quickly. 

He makes another sharp turn, trying to throw the raptor’s tail, but she’s too quick for him. She makes a sound, different from the terrible scream he’d heard earlier when she first began the chase—its a chittering sound, almost like laughter. Like she’s _playing_ with him. 

They haven’t gotten too far from the shed. Eddie gets glimpses of it from the corner of his eye, running parallel to the building. He keeps looking for a side door but sees nothing but endless walls of white. 

The raptor screams again, clearly fed up with their game, and picks up speed—he can hear her gain on him. Eddie pushes his legs as far as he can, turns to avoid another of her jumps and nearly slips in the muddy undergrowth, ankle twisting painfully. She turns with him, right on his heels, and he’s certain this is it—any second now he’ll feel her claws in his back, her teeth on his neck, and Richie’s face floods his vision as she screams again, farther away than expected—

He trips, injured ankle giving out on him, and waits, instinctively covering his head with his hands—but the attack never comes. He rolls over and finds the raptor running away from him, towards the shed. With a sob of relief, he realizes the call he heard wasn’t from her, but from one of her sisters in the distance. The Big One, he thinks, if he’s remembering what Beverly said earlier. He’s lucky it wasn’t the alpha chasing him. 

Eddie doesn’t waste time—shakily he gets to his feet, taking off at a light jog to put as much distance between himself and the raptors as he can. He ignores the stitch in his chest and pushes himself until he’s far enough away that he can catch his breath. 

He stops when the trees start to thin out, certain he has to be close to the visitors center. He leans against a tree to breathe, and to gingerly prod at the cut on his face. It’s still bleeding slightly, but he can already feel it scabbing over, and his hand comes away pink with watered down blood. His heart slows as he sucks in deep breaths, until he remembers with a terrifying lurch that Richie was behind him. Any second now, he could be walking right into the raptor’s trap.

Frantically Eddie doubles back, retreating back into the jungle as quietly as he possibly can, searching for Richie. The thick humidity in the air and the panic in his chest is enough to choke him.

His ankle throbs with every step. Eddie grits his teeth and puts as much weight as he can stand on it. He’ll need to be able to run again, he’s sure. There’s more raptors in the area—Beverly said there were three, and he’d only seen the one.

Eddie does his best to stay hidden in the treeline, though he’s not sure how much protection that could possibly provide him against the raptors if they find him again. It will certainly offer none against the t-rex, who could flatten the trees around Eddie under its giant feet like they’re no more than blades of grass. Still, it feels safer than being out in the open where he knows the raptors will thrive.

As the rain picks up, Eddie stops to catch his breath and raises his face to the sky, letting it rinse off most of the mud, dirt and blood on his face. He lifts his hands and scrubs them together, washing some of the remaining blood off his hands. Some of it is his, but he knows most of it isn’t. It’s Richie’s. Richie’s blood. Richie, who could be—

_No._ Eddie can’t go down that road. He’s going to find Richie, and he’s going to kick his ass for starting that _stupid_ fight, and then he’s going to pull Richie close and never let him go again.

It scares him, the way that they went years without one another, but he feels just as strongly today as he did back then. It scares him almost as much as what he saw at the maintenance shed, as much as being chased by the raptor. It scares him almost as much as the realization that Richie is out here, unprotected and unaware, that anything could happen to him, and Eddie couldn’t do a thing about it.

Eddie’s got to find him. He must be close to the visitor’s center—he’s backtracking, but he’s sure the visitors center would be close to the maintenance shed, towards where he’s walking, but it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t find Richie first. He’d stay out here all night if that’s what it took to find Richie and keep him safe. If he’s not at the visitors center like they’d planned, he’ll turn around and walk until he finds him. 

His steps waiver when he approaches a large clearing. It’s his only way through, he realizes—he’ll have to leave the relative safety of the trees to cross it. He crouches as he makes his way into the open, towards the final hill that he thinks will bring him to the pond that frames the entrance.

Eddie closes his eyes. His heart pounds in his chest. He’s got no way of knowing where the velociraptors are, whether they followed him or if they’re still wandering around the shed, and that scares the hell out of him. But Richie doesn’t know either. And Eddie’s got to find Richie and warn him before it’s too late. 

He hears Richie before he sees him.

Eddie’s eyes open in shock. It’s unmistakably Richie’s voice, and it takes everything inside of Eddie not to sprint the rest of the way up and fuck up his ankle even more. He crests the hill as fast as he can, still crouched low. His heart is hammering in his chest.

Then he sees Richie, hands cupped around his mouth as he yells Eddie’s name, the idiot. Eddie chokes around a sob, so relieved he nearly collapses. 

“Eds! _Eddie!_ ” Richie yells, turning in circles.

Eddie stands.

Richie has his back to Eddie, still yelling out his name, when he turns halfway. His hair is messy and half-loose, strands plastered to his face. His jacket is long gone, pants torn up. He’s nowhere near as bloody as Eddie had pictured him in his worst imaginings. Richie’s expression sags in relief when he finally makes eye contact with Eddie.

For a moment, all Eddie can do is stare at him, the overwhelming love he still holds for him reaching a crescendo in his chest. Like no time has passed at all. The thought of a future for the both of them dances through his mind unbidden. He wants it—god, he wants it.

Then something shrieks in the distance, and Eddie remembers where he is.

“ _Run_ ,” Eddie grits through his clenched teeth, but Richie is too far to hear him. He takes a few hesitant steps towards Eddie, uncertain. Unsure.

The dam breaks.

Eddie lurches to his feet and breaks out into a sprint, ignoring the way his ankle screams in protest and his feet slip on the rain soaked grass. Richie takes a few jogging steps to meet him, wincing slightly, but Eddie’s faster, kicking up mud and dirt behind him. Richie staggers to a halt at the same time that Eddie jumps, his arms already open when Eddie rushes forward and throws himself into them. His legs wrap around Richie’s waist, his arms twine around Richie’s shoulders. Desperation is clawing out of his throat, but it’s _Richie’s_ warm weight underneath him and Richie’s grip holding him tight. Richie spins them both to maintain his balance, arms so tight around Eddie’s back that he can barely breathe. 

“Thank fuck, oh, god, Eds, I was so fucking scared,” Richie gasps around a sob. Eddie’s heart is practically pounding in his ears. He tightens his arms around Richie’s shoulders and burrows his nose to his neck. “Don’t you _ever_ do that again, Jesus. Fuck. _Eddie._ ”

And that’s what does it. The dam has already broken, the swell of it has already flooded, but it’s that single utterance of his name, hushed like a prayer, and Eddie caves in. He pulls back just far enough to look Richie in the eye and cradle his face between his hands before connecting their mouths in a terrified, desperate kiss. 

Richie rocks back a step, startled by the urgency, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t even loosen his grip. He holds Eddie up with strong arms around his waist and kisses him back.

It’s been years since this. It’s been no time at all. Eddie twines his hands into Richie’s hair, making even more of a mess out of the bun. He shifts himself up and opens his mouth, gasping in relief when Richie deepens the kiss. He’s vaguely aware that he’s crying. It all seems irrelevant now. With Richie’s arms around him and Richie’s mouth pressing against his, none of it fucking matters.

Eddie breaks them apart when a sob threatens to burst out of his throat. He presses their foreheads together. They’re twined around each other, pressed together head to toe, and it still doesn’t feel close enough. Eddie lifts his head enough to press a wet kiss to the top of Richie’s forehead.

“Eddie,” Richie says. His voice is thick. It’s hard to tell with the rain, but Eddie thinks Richie’s crying, too.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him. He won’t waste any more time. Not while they’re here. Not ever, not when they get off this godforsaken island and restart their lives together. He won’t waste a single second of their time together ever again. “I do, Richie, I do, I love you. I’m so sorry.”

“I love you,” Richie repeats. Eddie surges down and kisses him again. Richie murmurs it against his lips. A litany of words they went too long without saying. A promise neither of them will break again. _I love you. I love you. I love you._

All too soon, there’s a rolling sound in the distance. Something that could be thunder but could easily be the roar of a dinosaur. Eddie breaks the kiss and looks into the distance. There’s still so much out there that neither of them know of, and their friends are still out there in danger.

Richie reaches up and brushes strands of Eddie’s wet hair off his forehead. “Stay here with me, Eds,” Richie says softly, and that pulls Eddie back.

“We have to go somewhere safe,” Eddie tells him. It’s cold, when his feet touch the ground and Richie’s arms unwrap from around him. Not even a second passes before Richie twines their fingers together, seemingly just as unwilling to let go of Eddie as Eddie feels to let go of him. “I was—I was trying to warn you. The velociraptors, they got out. They’re free, they almost—”

He can’t finish the sentence. There’s a moment of silence, sheathed by the rainfall, as Richie stares at him with uncomprehending eyes. Eddie watches Richie’s throat bob as he swallows. Succinctly, he says, “Well. Fuck.”

Eddie can’t help but smile. And isn’t that the heart of it? At least they’ve got each other, through all of this. They’ve got the small instances where it doesn’t feel out of place to smile. They’ve got the warm, comforting weight of the person they’ve been waiting for after all this time. That feels like enough.

“Let’s go, yeah?” Eddie asks, tugging on Richie’s hand, and together they begin, limping, up the final hill. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find us here: [hyruling](https://twitter.com/edskaspbraking), [sabisun](https://twitter.com/sabisuns), [playedwright](https://twitter.com/SPACERICHlE). all of us are regularly active with other reddie content including other fics and smaus, but do often drop teasers about this fic or the characters fairly often as well :)

**Author's Note:**

> you can find us here: [playedwright](https://twitter.com/SPACERICHlE), [hyruling](https://twitter.com/edskaspbraking), [sabisun](https://twitter.com/sabisuns)


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